A Day in the Life of Starshield
by Starshield Writers Group
Summary: An anthology of the Starshield Universe written by eleven national and international writers. Please read and review.
1. Default Chapter

**A Day in the Life of Starshield**   
**An Anthology of the Starshield Universe**

Written by the Starshield Writers Group 

**Foreword**

A Day in the Life of Starshield is the first on-line anthology of Starshield fiction. What is Starshield? Quite simply it is a premise that is both a series of novels, an international on-line community and a near limitless playground for the imagination. The Starshield Universe was created by New York Times best selling authors Tracy Hickman and Margaret Weis. In it's on-line conception it is a writer driven universe were participants are asked to create interstellar (or stellar) empires of a fantasy or science fictional nature, then to interact with those created by other members. "What would you do with a handful of stars?", and from there your adventure begins. The anthology you are about to read are the works of eleven talented veteran Starshield writers from across the world, showcasing the wonders, dangers and unique lives of their created empires taking place in the span of a single Starshield day. These are also works inspired by one simple theme - Life. From its primeval manifestations to its mind warping possibilities. From birth to death, and the struggle to survive in-between. 

As the editor of this anthology I would like to thank the following people - Esteban Jauregui Lorda, Stellar StarElven, Jeremy Hussell and Chris Corliss for their creative input and editorial support, as well as all the contributing writers involved in this project. 

I hope you enjoy these stories born out of shouldered commitments, eyestrain, and perhaps one or two sleepless nights. Works paid for in body cash... because the stars don't take VISA. 

_Lowell Boston_   
_June 6, 2001_   
  


**Table of Contents**   


**Prologue**   
  


**Morning**   


**Chapter 1** A Child of Omen- Stellar StarElven - The birth of a prince is by nature an occasion of great merit and   
accord. The birth of such a child upon a day of Omens can only be that much greater still. What result shall come of this very   
special beginning are known only to those odd forces that spin the webs of destiny and fate. Yet even such webs as those can be   
broken and altered by the wills and desires of life. 

**Chapter 2 **Song of the Bard - Richard Mckinley - In the Great Cycle of Life in Avalon, nothing is lost forever.   
Occasionally, events of great magnitude occur, and the Great Cycle turns once more. Life leads to Death, Death to Rebirth. Then,   
Life begins anew. This is such a time. 

**Chapter 3 **A New Prince - Andoria Sunok - The Sages have been companions and guardians to the Andorians for   
centuries, however, the tides of the moon and sun are changing, and soon a Sage will become the new ruler of Oryn Prime, a   
mysterious world hidden within the Oryn Nebula. This new leadership has been ordained by the Prophets and Illistra, whose   
spiritual trinity is worhsipped by the inhabitants of this mystical world. 

**Chapter 4 **The Premonition - Lev Chterenberg - A strange feeling saves Derek Trask from a deadly accident but   
he is knocked unconscious. He experiences a strange dream that awakens something in Derek's mind, something that was dormant   
since the day he was born. 

**Chapter 5 **Priorities - Anatol Rathbauer - Terchan pirates have spotted their prey and practically nothing can prevent   
the imposing bloodbath. 

**Chapter 6 **A Simple Favor - Mark Proctor - Kalia wanted to settle down with her new husband and start a new life,   
but first she had to do a favor for someone. All she had to do was find some stolen items, no big challenge for a powerful sorceress,   
at least that is what she thought before she learned who the thief was. 

**Chapter 7 **Hopeful Beginnings, or Irkk Plays (Yet) Another Practical Joke On His   
Lifelong Friend - Jeremy Hussell - The nomadic descendants of explorers trapped in a barren zone are gathering once again   
to sing their ballads. Among those joining the festivities are Nurol, an aging man with an unusual story, and his companion Irkk, an   
Olrawan that might tell you a completely abnormal story with no provocation whatsoever.   
  


**Noon**   
  


**Chapter 8 **Flowings - Anatol Rathbauer - The investigations of a Vestis Inquisitas leads her into a Q-Zone whose reality   
is fundamentally different from our concept of time and space. 

**Chapter 9 **Noontime Dark - Chris Corliss - First Mate Loren Sharpel was finally going to get some questions answered   
that he has had for the past few years. That was true until he was introduced to one of his fears.   
  


**Night**   
  


**Chapter 10 **New Leadership - Frank Vittoe - The attack on the Dra'Keshi Empire was imminent. Phaere Arachnia   
had everything prepared. The Noble Houses had all fallen in line behind her. A fleet of nearly 500 Spiderships was hidden in The   
Queen's Zone of SQT Space. Everything was ready. But Phaere had forgotten to account for one small detail... 

**Chapter 11 **Cycling Days - Esteban Jauregui Lord**a**- Birth, growth and Death are all sacred words for a shuraki,   
incredibly weaved into a never-ending circle: Life. 

**Chapter 12 **The Crossing Guard - Lowell Boston - Retiree Arthur Tyson had looked forward to a good life on 2nd   
World Resso's Question. That was until the day the old Victoria gravity conveyer hovered into town, bring with it his troubled past.   
  


**Afterwords**   
  
  
  


_______________________________________________________________________   
  
  
  
  


**Prologue**   


**TransComm Channel 001 Online....**

**....Current Program: IGNM News Report; Source: OMNET Central,**

**Mnemen IV Life-Ring....**   


[A human-like shadow of a face, neck and shoulders floats to the left of the screen. You can see it belongs to a man of sharp lines. His mouth moves   
and, accompanying the audio, is a line of text in the Ur-Dargi language scrolling along the lower part of the view screen.] 

"Welcome Sentients of the Greater Galaxy to the Inter-Galactic News Matrix. I'm Vestis Apsius Dakarrus..." 

[The angle changes, pulling out and panning to a smooth medium shot, favoring Dakarrus off to the left, while revealing his human co-anchor, screen   
right. Her cue comes and she speaks.] 

"... And I'm Vestis Nisa Gaetane with your galaxy's news in perspective." 

[The camera cuts to Nisa, now favoring her on screen right. Next to her floats holographic captions in shifting multi-lingo fonts.] 

"Today, across the galaxy, marks the first, and perhaps only occurrence of what scientist and religious leaders   
are calling...The Day of Omens. A once in an aeon phenomenon that has caught the attention of the Nine Synths.   
In the the scope of single day we will see the synchronization of several cosmic events: planetary alignments, super   
nova's, quantum zone shifts and the birth of several stars occurring nearly simultaneously across numerous solar   
systems just in today's first cycle alone. One Omnet scientist said that creation has not seen this much synchronicity   
since the fabled Shattering of Suns itself.   
Meanwhile, many prominent religious leaders, and prophets are heralding the event as everything from the end   
of the Universe to the second coming of Kendis Dai, while others have proclaimed today as a blessed omen for any   
children born, or martyred status for the departed. Whichever the case, the galaxy will be changed as we know it." 

[Camera widens to a two shot as Dakarrus looks on with interest.] 

"And if it's a change for good or bad, Nisa, we'll be here to report it." 

[An image shimmers, fading up to full focus between the reporters, solidifying into a three dimensional avatar of the K'tan Imperial Flag.   
Dakarrus lifts his chin and squares his shoulders, a sublet shift that pulls the viewers attention back to him.] 

"Now, for this cycles breaking news ...hijacking in the Mir Islands. Approximately six hours ago the K'tan Empire   
released information detailing news of startling consequence to nearly every Empire in the G, H and B Tri-Sector.   
The supply route of the 21st Fleet of the K'tan Empire was hijacked by what appears to be a massive armada of   
Razgat pirates. Information concerning how this embarrassing and startling defeat could befall one of the galaxy's   
most powerful Major Empires is unknown at this time. However, a spokesman for the K'tan fleet has reported that   
there were no survivors in this heinous act of piracy. We'll have more on this late breaking news within the cycle." 

[The scene cross dissolves to space. The deep, blue velvet colors of a Quantum storm saturates the image before the camera pans - an arcing,   
wide angel swish that distorts the surrounding space with a swirling fish-eyed effect before settling on a small armada of Merchant Class ships.] 

"A level four Quantum storm has unexpectedly broken out this cycle along the Sector C's border of the Maelstrom   
Wall, causing a wide deviation of Interstellar merchants routes and an overlapping of the sovereign territories of the   
Covenant of the Spiral, and the Neelim Celestocracy. Both Minor Empires have welcomed members of the Omnet   
Diplomatic Corps to mediate the nations new conjoined spaces as well as the plotting of a new Interstellar trade route.   
An air of mutual cooperation has also spread between both Empires as plans have been discussed for the construction   
of a joint space station." 

[Scene dissolves back the news station set. Dakarrus continues.] 

"And today marks the final retirement of Vestis Aegeon Tybalt, who at the remarkable age five hundred and forty-two   
is the oldest living Vestis in Omnet history. As one of the first generation of Vestis Inquisitas, Vestis Tybalt has lived and   
reported on such historical events as the formation of the Lights of Ja'Lel and the assassination of Vestis Prime Sar'ashra.   
We caught up with this remarkable man on his ranch on the planet Alfheim of New Asgard, and asked what the future   
may have in store for him ..." 

[Scene cross fades to an strong and fit elderly looking man throwing a bale of hay on to hover wagon. Surrounding him are tall majestic mountains   
covered with ancient pines. The smudged silhouette of a dragon can be seen flying in the distance over the shoulders of numerous reporters from   
countless races and empires. Turning towards the groups with a roguish smile the Vestis speaks.] 

"Well, to be honest it's going to take some time getting use to living without deadlines, but essentially, I'm going to   
take it one day at a time." 

[A reporter with avian features calls a question.] 

"One day at a time, sir? No plans for writing a holo on your life, or consulting for the Vestis Interion?" 

"Goodness no. It'll be nice just not to write something for a while." 

[Another reporter calls an inquiry.] 

"No disrespect sir, but now that you're retired, do you feel that there are less days ahead of you than behind?" 

[The elder Vestis crosses his arm, and regards the group with a warming grin.] 

"If there's one thing I've learned in all my time in the Omnet, it's this... one day is a universe onto it's own, my friend.   
Live for today ...and let tomorrow take care of itself." 

[The Camera cuts, and the head anchor turns to face the viewer.] 

"Words of wisdom to live by. Coming up next ...the quantum weather by the sectors, and the yarlow stock reports.   
I'm Vestis Apsius Dakarrus, along with Vestis Nisa Gaetane reporting from Mnemen IV, OMNET Central, for the   
Intra-Galactic News Matrix IGNM: a Universe of perspective you can Trust." 

...Next Program: Class VII sentient race rights change and the FSS political scene; Source: Star Citadel, FSS.... 

[Scene fades to black replaced by a field of stars.]   
  
  
  
  
  
  


__________________________**1**____________________________   


**A Child of Omen**   
by Stellar StarElven 

**Sector H**   
**Dra'Keshi Empire**   
**Heartstone**   
  


The time had come. 

Fyrsha rose from the soft couch in Lysia's home where she had been staying of late, considering the precarious state of things at Heartstone   
and in fact throughout the entire empire since the evil crystalline entity had usurped the throne, and continued to rule in the guise of the former   
King Zylen'Valik. It had been necessary to reveal this fact to only a precious few so that Gamma would not become aware that his deception had   
been uncovered. Lysia had insisted that the mother-to-be come to Dervish where she could be among friends. Fyrsha had graciously accepted the   
offer. She was very worried about the state of the Empire and the fate of her husband, Onshir. She had, of course, been informed privately of the   
state of matters, yet still she worried over the fate of Onshir, and in fact for all Dra'Keshi. 

Lysia entered the room as if sensing for herself that the time had arrived for the birth of a child who would, fates willing, be prince. The Queen   
of Dervish was unable to stifle a giggle as she saw Fyrsha struggling much like a flipped turtle to rise to her feet and swiftly moved to offer assistance.   
Fyrsha accepted the offer grudgingly, cursing her present state of immobility, but not the cause of it. 

"Come along then! Cannot have the future Queen of the Dra'Keshi Empire flopping about like a   
shell-backed reptile now can we?" 

Lysia quipped as Fyrsha was helped upright and accompanied toward the large, open ledge off through an arch of the room. Waiting for the   
mother-with-child to go first, Lysia noted as Fyrsha transformed that even her dragon form bulged hugely from the infant in her womb. When   
the way was clear, Lysia too transformed and joined alongside Onshir's mate as she made her labored flight up into the high atmosphere, and   
finally out into the space beyond. Despite the distance, Fyrsha had insisted that the child would be born at the Heartstone birthing place and thus   
they traveled the 57 light year distance to the neighboring system and finally drew near to the place where dragons are born. The journey taking   
only a little over an hour at standard Dra'Keshi flight speed, they spotted the familiar draconic figures of Neeva and Tarsha already present and   
waiting when they arrived at the birthing space. 

The wait was not long as natural reactions and muscles worked to bring the child out into the freedom of living. Not a comfortable or pleasant   
experience to be sure, yet Fyrsha would gladly do it all again to bring another life into the universe.   


***** 

A sudden feeling of peace and well being touched the mind of every Dra'Keshi regardless of distance or activity, they all knew in an instant that   
the foul usurper had been cast down and that a Dra'Keshi once again ruled the Empire. All knew that the cruel crystalline entity, Prime Gamma,   
was destroyed. 

The four females turned their gaze toward the nearby planet of Heartstone, the nearest solid mass to the area of space where they now rested,   
and beyond it to the other stellar bodies within the system. All gasped in awe at the sight before them. Positioned in perfect alignment, Heartstone   
and all the other planets of the system formed a straight line with the sun at its tip. Neeva mentally noted the star toward which the unexpected   
alignment was directed, while Lysia commented that it seemed a good omen. A rapidly moving shape rising from the surface of Heartstone finally   
broke the awestricken gazes of the group of females.Racing to be present at the birth of his son, Onshir arrived just as several strong contractions   
presented the long thin snout of a Dra'Keshi infant. Onshir was glad to find the other females present as he knew his mate would be comforted by   
their presence, and they would likely also provide himself with some much needed support during this remarkable event. The former prince would   
of course maintain as much 'resolve and calm' as one could during all this, however he knew that none present would be much fooled by it. 

Although she could not read his thoughts upon spotting the supportive females, Fyrsha knew Onshir was nervous and excited about the event.   
The emotions which she gathered from Onshir as he greeted her with masked concern and apprehension in his voice, confirmed her impressions.   
She allowed her joy and relief at seeing him alive and well to reach his senses with a hope that it might ease his nerves somewhat. 

If anything could best describe what Dra'Keshi were this would be it. The gathering of others to their own kind in a show of support and caring.   
Fyrsha felt at ease, despite her current condition and was very glad at having so many good friends around to help her in this time of need and uncertainty. 

A wave of relief passed over the assembled dragons as this was a good sign that there would likely be no problems in the birthing. The birthing   
was never a quick process, and always an anxious time. The birth of a dragon presented a great deal of danger to both the infant and mother, as a   
bad reflex could spell instant death for either of them, or even both together. Being a typical worrisome father, Onshir fretted constantly over the   
safety of his mate and child, until Neeva took the newly restored King of the Dra'Keshi Empire aside and explained several methods she had learned   
of which might make the birthing mother more comfortable during this difficult time. These being ways that the father could make the experience as   
comfortable and calm as possible for his mate, considering the stress of the situation. Thankful to have something productive to do, Onshir snaked his   
long neck around and gently licked Fyrsha's brow ridges. As urged by the pair of knowledgeable yet thus far inexperienced females, Onshir whispered   
words of encouragement and praise to his mate which did seem to have a soothing effect upon the new mother. Despite her own personal concerns   
and worries, Fyrsha presented a solid and determined demeanor as she bore each new wave of pain and discomfort which accompanied the process   
of birth. All went well and after only seventeen hours which was a record-breaking fast birthing, Dylen, the first son of Onshir'Valik, flew free upon   
glistening newly formed wings. 

The planetary alignment seemed also to have been waiting this moment as it had held still and true in it's direction toward the far distant point of light.   
As if satisfied, the alignment began to slowly drift apart as the stellar bodies resumed their normal course of travel in orbit of their sun. 

Heading for home, the three females from Dervish parted ways with Onshir, Fyrsha, and the young Dylen'Valik. Dylen had been born as Prince   
and such added even more so to the pride the parents felt in watching their son, who was now barely fifty feet long in dragon form, darting about   
upon his unfamiliar wings in the clumsy fashion that all newborn Dra'Keshi did at first. Dylen's eyes darted ceaselessly and curiously about in amazement   
at the sights before him. The place he had been before had been warm and comfortable, still it felt good to stretch his wings and see all these wonders   
now before him. Suddenly, becoming very hungry, the tiny newborn Drak darted over to hover before Fyrsha's tired yet loving face and placed his   
tiny clawed hands on either side of her head and backwinged furiously to keep pace. All Dra'Keshi children communicate mentally with their mothers   
long before the birthing occurs, however Fyrsha urged her son to speak the desire aloud. With some deal of effort, and a goodly amount of sputtering,   
Dylen managed to speak it. 

"H... Hnng. Huuunnngrrrry" 

Beaming a proud smile to her son and catching sight of the equally proud glance from Onshir, Fyrsha reassured Dylen that he would be fed well upon   
arriving home. The family of three arrived home just as the first gentle rays of sunlight spread warmth across the city of Heartstone. 

The first necessity of parenting was of course in teaching their fledgeling dragon son how to take elven form. Fyrsha went first, transforming as her tail   
touched the wide balcony into her now considerably thinner elven form. Having become accustomed to the additional weight of the child she had carried,   
Fyrsha found herself a little unbalanced both by the change in her body and the fatigue from the ordeal she had experienced. Heading inside to lie down   
and rest, the new mother left the training in the able hands of Dylen's father. Onshir too displayed the method of changing, which he repeated more times   
than he bothered to count until the young one managed to make the change into his toddler-sized elven form. Overjoyed by the success and words of praise   
from his father, Dylen clapped his elven hands together happily and made move to change again. Setting a hand upon the unclothed boy's shoulder, Onshir   
shook his head and reassured the child that there would be plenty more opportunity for that later. Suddenly reminded of the promise of food, Dylen nodded   
in understanding and ran barefooted into the cavernous dwelling to find his mother. 

It was the dawning of a new day, and a peaceful one at that...   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Song of the Bard

__________________________**2**____________________________   
  


**Song of the Bard**   
by Richard McKinley   


**Sector H**   
**Protectorate of Avalon**   
**Clarsach**   
  
  


In the village of Dun Coen, on the world of Clarsach, a great throng gathered. The Daoine were a hardy folk, accustomed to a hard life among   
the highlands. This was one of those occasions when the Daoine clans banded together, which were rare. They were here to celebrate the Festival   
of Swords. It was a time to honor the heroes of the past, to recall to mind the glorious deeds of their ancestors. All of Clarsach joined in the celebration. 

This particular crowd had gathered to listen to the bard, Fionval, whose songs and tales were celebrated throughout the land. Today, the Cymru   
were graced with his presence. The Cymru were a dark race, at home along the coast and in the hills. 

Fionval's reddish-blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his green eyes flashed imperiously as he regarded the crowd. He stood straight and tall,   
and began to play upon his harp. The crowd hushed as the first strains carried over the noise of the gathering. When he was certain he had their   
attention, the bard began to speak. 

"Hear, now, the tale of Amhlaigh, the greatest bard in the history of Clarsach. Amhlaigh, Shaper of Worlds,   
Bearer of the Silver Harp. Hear, now, of his last and greatest accomplishment, of how he stood alone against   
the armies of Discord." 

Having set the tone, Fionval began the tale. All eyes were turned upon him, and all ears strained to hear him speak.   


********   


Beyond the Mists of Time, two great empires fought a war to determine the fate of our world. The Daoidhe, servants of Chaos, sowed the   
seeds of Discord, and Clarsach groaned beneath the weight of their assault. 

The Sinnsear, a race more ancient than we, the Daoine, fought long and hard to halt the advance of Discord. Order and Chaos clashed, and   
great was the suffering of the world. 

A group of beings known as the Arsaidh, or Elders, watched as the world trembled, and heard the desperate cries of a wounded land. The   
greatest of these beings was Amhlaigh, First Bard and Creator of Clarsach. His were the hands that played the Amhran Cruthaich, or Song of   
Creation, upon the Silver Harp. His were the hands that had shaped the world of Clarsach from the Mists of Time. 

"Something must be done, brothers and sisters," said Amhlaigh gravely. "Clarsach cannae bear such punishment   
indefinitely. We must take action to preserve her." 

"We have taken a vow o' non-interference, my brother," said Aimsir. "As much as it pains us, we must allow history   
to take its course. There is nothing that can be done." 

Several of the Arsaidh nodded their agreement, and a great rage consumed Amhlaigh. His brothers and sisters would not help him. 

"Yer precious Balance means naething if Clarsach is destroyed," he said bitterly. "I cannae condone the death o' our warld.   
If ye willnae act, then I must act alone. Farewell, brothers and sisters." 

Having spoken, Amhlaigh drew Airgead, the Silver Harp, from his cloak. Her strings sparkled in the sunlight, and the Harp's music flowed   
beautifully as Amhlaigh caressed them. 

"What are ye doing, Amhlaigh?" demanded Dealrach as tendrils of mist wound their way around his limbs.   
"What is the meaning o' this?" 

Amhlaigh merely continued the Song of Binding, using all the Power at his command. The tendrils of mist wove a wall, which surrounded   
the entire assemblage of Arsaidh. As Amhlaigh continued the Binding, the wall of mist shimmered ever more brilliantly, becoming a scintillating   
array of rainbow hues. Then, in a final brilliant flash, it was gone, along with the Arsaidh. 

"Tis done," said Amhlaigh as the final strain of the Song of Binding faded away. "My brothers and sisters will sleep   
for a time, then awaken. Now, I have a warld tae save." 

Clarsach screamed in agony as war tore at her already scarred surface. The planet's agony transferred itself to   
Amhlaigh's consciousness, and he steeled himself for the task at hand. 

The bard began to play the Song of the Wind, and was borne aloft toward the battlefield. As he traveled, he considered his options.   
There didn't seem to be many. The damage to Clarsach was already extensive, and would take thousands of years to repair. 

Amhlaigh had reached an area that would serve as an excellent vantage point. From here, he could watch the battle and remain unobserved.   
There wasn't much time. Having reached a decision, he began another song. 

The air was rent by a thunderous roar, and on the battlefield, all eyes turned heavenward. Jagged lightning sliced the sky, and the acrid odor   
of ozone stung the nostrils. It was as if the very heavens were protesting the war. 

Lightning danced and flickered between the opposing armies, forming an impassable wall of electricity. Heat seared the faces of those in the   
front ranks, and even those in the rear were affected. Their hair stood on end, and their skin crawled. Then, a voice thundered from the heavens. 

"Drakkar, Leader o' the Daoidhe, and Aryllon, King o' the Sinnsear, ye have both been weighed in the Balance   
and found wanting. Neither o' ye shall inherit Clarsach! Reap, now, that which ye have sown." 

Senses expanded, and all present could feel the world's pain. It was more than any mortal could bear, and screams of agony filled the battlefield.   
Jagged spears of lightning streaked from the wall of electricity, incinerating all in their path. Then, the electrical barrier began to expand, consuming   
the front ranks of both armies. The iron resolve of war crumbled, and the soldiers broke ranks and fled. 

The wall of lightning would not be deterred. It overtook the fleeing soldiers, searing the flesh from their bones. There were to be no survivors.   
Amhlaigh watched from his vantage point in the mountains. The Song of Undoing was complete. Soon, the wall of lightning would reach the   
mountains. Clarsach would be purged of the foul influence of Drakkar and Aryllon for all time. 

Clearing his mind of all thoughts, Amhlaigh began to hum the Song of Union. His energies would repair the damaged world. In time, life would   
arise once more on Clarsach. The world would be reborn, and have another chance to prosper in its existence. 

Energy coursed through his being, and the sensation was a pleasant one. As he continued the Song of Union, he sensed Clarsach's welcoming   
embrace. He sank into that embrace, and an indescribable bliss overwhelmed his senses. He could no longer hold Airgead, for his form no longer   
had substance. 

Amhlaigh whispered a tearful farewell, and the Silver Harp vanished in a brilliant flash of emerald light. Then, the wall of lightning reached him,   
and the world was no more.   


********   


"The light of Amhlaigh's magic carries to the farthest star," said Fionval, concluding his story.   
"It carries with it a reminder of the Great Cycle of Life, Death, and Rebirth. Remember Amhlaigh   
with gratitude, for without him, our world would be no more." 

Great cheers arose from the crowd as the listeners paid homage to Amhlaigh, First Bard of Clarsach. Fionval bowed low, and prepared to begin   
a new tale. Before he could begin, a woman, heavy with child, sank to the ground, and screamed with the first pangs of childbirth.   


********   


On a fog-shrouded mountain top, seven sleepers stirred. Their senses told them that Clarsach had healed from her terrible wounds, but still bore   
the scars of that long-ago war. 

Memory returned in a rush of images. Two great armies battled one another, heedless of the destruction they caused. Entire continents were laid   
waste, and Clarsach screamed in agony. The Arsaidh had taken an oath of non-interference, for fear of disrupting the Balance. 

One man had the courage to stand alone, to try to put an end to the destruction. A black-bearded bard holding a silver harp. A song of incredible   
beauty, tendrils of mist snaking out to imprison them. Then, nothingness. 

"What have we done?" cried Dealrach in anguish. "In seeking to preserve the Balance,   
we betrayed our world. Forgive us, Amhlaigh. We were wrong." 

The mist came alive in a brilliant array of rainbow colors. It flared briefly, then shattered. The Arsaidh were free from their prison. Clarsach spread   
outward beneath them, beautiful once more. However, something was wrong. Violent storms wracked the planet's surface. Something dark and   
menacing had awakened as well. 

"The Balance has not been restored," said Slanaigh in her rich, beautiful voice. "Clarsach must be healed.   
Though we are still bound by the Oath, we must do what we can. Clarsach must have her Champion.   
Join wi' me, brothers and sisters." 

One by one, the rest of the Arsaidh nodded their agreement. They joined hands, and began the Song of Summoning. Using the considerable   
Power at their command, the Arsaidh called to Amhlaigh. 

Particles of light erupted from the ground all around them. They gathered together, forming a shape that was all too familiar to these beings.   
in moments, Amhlaigh, First Bard of Clarsach, stood before them. Amhlaigh was but a shadow of his former self, for much of his Power had   
gone into mending the broken world. He regarded the assemblage of Elders with sad eyes, then spoke. 

"So, ye have awakened, brothers and sisters. How fares Clarsach? Pray, tell me that my sacrifice   
wasnae in vain." 

"Clarsach lives, and much o' her wounds have healed," said Slanaigh. "Howe'er, the Balance has not   
been fully restored. Our world needs ye, brother. Where is the Silver Harp?" 

"Lost," said Amhlaigh sadly. "I can do naething in my present condition. Why have ye summoned   
me from Clarsach's embrace? What do ye wish o' me? My Power isnae what it once was." 

"Ye are Clarsach's Champion," said Dealrach. "She needs ye now. That is why we have summoned ye.   
Would ye turn yer back, now, on the world ye once saved?" 

"What can I do?" cried the bard plaintively, spreading his arms helplessly. "As I said, my Power isnae   
what it once was. Do ye wish tae torment me wi' my failure? Begone, and trouble me nae mair!" 

"Yer Power is not lost," said Slanaigh gently. "It needs only to be awakened once more. Ye will be reborn,   
as a mortal. Ye will have no knowledge o' yer heritage until the time is right. Find the Silver Harp, Amhlaigh.   
Only its Power can restore Harmony to our world. That will be yer task in the mortal world." 

"So be it," said Dealrach, and the rest of the Arsaidh nodded in agreement. Amhlaigh bowed low, acquiescing   
to the will of his siblings. He would be Clarsach's Champion once more. Such would be his atonement for his   
failure centuries ago. 

The Arsaidh began a new song, a Song of Renewal. The shade that was Amhlaigh, First Bard of Clarsach, shimmered brightly, then was gone.   


******** 

In the village of Dun Coen, the woman toiled in the pangs of childbirth. The pain was great, despite the ministrations of the midwife, and she screamed.   
A golden light settled over Cailidh ap Dafyd, and the pain ceased. Laboring mightily, the stout Cymru woman brought her precious burden into the world. 

With a mighty scream, Angharad ap Talerin took her first breath in the mortal world. Cailidh cradled her newborn daughter in her arms, blissfully   
unaware of the child's glorious destiny. 

Elsewhere in the Greater Galaxy, a great light was seen.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. A New Prince

  
__________________________**3**____________________________   
  


**A New Prince**   
by Andoria Sunok   


**Sector H**   
**Andorian Dynasty**   
**Oryn Prime**   
  


Deep within the warm caverns of Rhapsody Mountain gentle breezes stirred and whirled through the crevices and flues of naturally formed   
rocky chimneys, creating the "music of the mountain", and therefore its name. The Sages made the mountain their home during the early   
spring and late summer months, while mating and bearing their young. No other duties occupied their time, except the tender intimacies and   
the wonder that comes from sharing with the bondmate of ones life. Sages Tobias and Clairana were expecting their first offspring, and so,   
in keeping with tradition, had remained within this stronghold for almost six months. 

The Sages' usual duties were as guardians to the Andorians, the elven-humanoid race with whom they cohabit Oryn Prime, their homeworld   
hidden within the Oryn Nebula. In turn, the Andorians functioned as caretakers of the planet, and the survival of both races depended on the   
balance of nature achieved through both their endeavors. As shape changers, the Sages were able to take on humanoid form. When doing so,   
they resemble the Andorians, save for their headdress of feathery long hair. In Sage form they made up the predatory species of birds that inhabit   
Oryn Prime. 

It was unusual for a Sage to deliver just one offspring. In their case, their large spacious nest would have been able to accommodate three or   
four young Stellar Sea Eagles by the time she delivered. It was for this reason that the two new parents were especially apprehensive and had   
the attention and care of several of their family and friends at their disposal. Due to the instinct for survival, they had long foregone the laying   
of eggs, and their young were born live in Sage form, and very hungry. Sage Tobias would spend many hours hunting and fishing until Clariana   
had recovered sufficiently to share in the feeding responsibilities. 

Tobias was concerned for her well being. Her labor and delivery would indeed be long and tiring for this one child was bountiful in size. Inside   
their cavern home they had remained in humanoid form, as it was easier for Tobias to care for her, and easier for her to move around. She was edgy,   
and had been working diligently to prepare their nest for three days. She would eat only when prompted and then very little. She had gone into labor   
several times and had changed form, but the pains had ceased. She was more than ready to deliver, and the fledgling within her, by the way he stretched   
and pushed, had very little room to grow or move. 

"Why the delay?" she would moan when nuzzling up to Tobias, desperate for relief from the weight within her womb. When her physician had   
paid them a visit that morning she had informed them that within twenty-four hours they would be parents and to prepare quickly. She had promised   
to return by nightfall to assist them in starting labor. It was essential that she be delivered as soon as possible. 

That night as moonlight streamed into their cavern home, and the breezes of an unusually warm but pleasant night surrounded them, Clariana was   
insistent on wanting to go for a short flight. Tobias tried to talk her out of it, but it was no use. It was as if she was possessed by the desire to soar within   
the moonlight and he finally consented. They changed form and flew to the top of the rocky cliff. She started to take off but felt the pressure of movement   
and hesitated. Tobias wrapped his wings around her, shielding her from the growing winds. She moved away from him. 

"I must do this, my time is at hand, and the prophecy shall be fulfilled. This night we shall deliver the first Sage to rule   
Oryn Prime as it was ordained by the Prophets of old. " 

Tobias looked deeply into her eyes, which seemed to glow. She then turned to the heavens. 

"Behold, my husband!" 

As Tobias looked upwards he drew in a deep breath. The moons of Oryn Prime were aligning, something which had not occurred for a millennium,   
and a kaleidoscope of light burst all around them. They took flight and soared high, their minds filled with the voices of the Prophets and symphony of   
the heavens. 

Suddenly, Clairana felt the pangs of labor, strong and sure, and she brushed her husbands mind with a simple message. 

"My time is upon me." 

They returned to their home to find the physician, Sage Gabrielle awaiting them. She instructed Tobias to gently massage her abdomen, while she   
prepared the young mother for birth. Many hours passed and Gabrielle admitted she was concerned that the child would need to be delivered in humanoid   
form rather than that of a Sage. This was especially worrisome, for if that occurred, the child would not be able to change into Sage form. Then, just when   
the physician thought she would need to intervene, Clairana suddenly became very quiet. Her damp brow began to dry and her color returned. 

She squeezed Tobias's hand and said, 

"He is coming and I am suddenly without pain and have a deep peace." 

A smile crossed her face and she laid her husbands hand on her abdomen which promptly responded to his touch by pushing against his palm. 

"Prepare to receive our son, my husband." 

He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Are you sure?" 

The surprise and delight on his face made her laugh. She then moaned as an overwhelming urge to push swept over her. He wiped her brow and she   
looked up into his eyes. 

"Such has been revealed to me, yes." 

She changed into Sage form and after an hour of additional pushing she gave birth to a fledgling that looked as if he was already two weeks old.   
Gabrielle allowed Tobias to gently cleanse and dry him and then nudged him to his mother. His squawks of hunger were only quieted by several small   
fish, which Tobias had been saving for the occasion. Gabrielle left the three of them alone, and instructed the others to begin a hunt to satisfy their new   
young prince. 

Left alone at last, Tobias changed form and wrapped his massive wings around them both. He gently nuzzled Clairana and their new offspring. 

"What name have the prophets chosen for our son?" 

She closed her eyes and sought the answer. When she opened them she replied, 

"He shall be symbolic of the dawn and shall bring an age of awakening to our people.   
His name shall be Byrkana." 

Tobias nodded thoughtfully and glanced upwards. The first rays of morning were streaming down upon them. 

"Yes, he is well named." 

Overcome by exhaustion, the young family settled down into their nest, and slept soundly.   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. The Premonition

__________________________**4**____________________________   
  
  


**The Premonition**   
by Lev Chterenberg   


**Sector H**   
**Traqian Star Cluster.**   
**Commonwealth of Independent Interstellar States.**   
**Volk-Tron Prime.**   
  


Tonight all the planets would align themselves in every system of the Traqian Star Cluster as well as in several parts of the Greater Galaxy.   
Such a phenomenon was the first to ever happen in the history of all people everywhere in known space. 

Derek Trask and his girlfriend Stella Asimof where riding on her hover bike to their special spot in the mountains just outside the city. It would   
be several hours before the evening's alignment, but they decided to go early to spend some time alone with each other. Derek gripped his girlfriend's   
waist as he thought about the unique day, and his unique life. 

Derek always knew he was different. On the day he was born there was a major earthquake, an explosion at the Telepath Academy, a drought   
started in Drantor and a tornado that demolished several small towns in the Palini desert. To make matters worse, his birth was long and difficult,   
and his mother died during the Cesarean Section. But he was born healthy, unusually large, but healthy nevertheless. After a week in the hospital his   
father took him home and hired an automated nurse to help raise his only son. 

As he was growing up his mental and physical development was faster and far better than all other kids his own age. He was very athletic and had   
the highest grades in his school. This made kids shun him a little, despite his friendliness to everyone. 

Now, at age sixteen, he was planning to apply to the Naval Academy. Derek wanted to serve in the Commonwealth Navy, to travel beyond the   
Traqian Star Cluster and to see other places. Ever since he was little he was fascinated by space, and longed to reach the stars. He had one more year   
in school before he could apply to the Academy, and with his grades he knew he would have no problem getting in. He was counting the days for   
the moment when he was eligible to apply. A day that didn't seem too far away. 

They were almost outside the city limits and the traffic was light. Derek was looking around when suddenly he experienced a strange feeling.   
In a split second he saw a hover car slamming into their hover bike as they were crossing the intersection that was coming up next. He shook his   
head and saw that in a few seconds they would actually cross that intersection and a hover car was speeding from their left trying to beat the yellow   
traffic light. Derek acted with out thinking, he knew that Stella would not be able to hear him with her helmet on so he leaned forward and grabbed   
the controls and tried to change their course. Stella was surprised and hit the brakes. She did it just in time as the hover car missed them by few   
inches and kept on going. Derek was thrown of the bike, he landed hard on his head but he was wearing his riding helmet. Before he lost consciousness   
he saw Stella running towards him.   


Sixteen years ago.   


Kovas Parker sat behind his computer workstation and accessed the R&D database of the Telepath Academy on Volk-Tron Prime. Kovas was   
one of the senior instructors in the Academy. Running a steady hand through his hair with a whimsical grin he reflected on the events leading up   
to his position. 

The Academy was established six months after the Revolution ten years ago. The newly found Commonwealth of Independent Interstellar   
States (CIIS) needed the help of Telepaths to build the new democratic state. Telepaths were a big part of the Rebellion and this led to the creation   
of the Telepath League and the Telepath Academy, a school specifically for anyone with the gift. Everyone who possessed telepathic powers had to   
sign up with the League, but only those people who wanted to join the Academy did so. Because of this, everyone had to sign a statement binding   
them to certain rules. The rules became known as The Big Three:   


Rule 1 - No Telepath could scan another Telepath, or sentient being without their consent.   
Rule 2 - Telepaths were forbidden to harm another sentient or Telepath.   
Rule 3 - All persons with telepathic powers were required to register with the Telepath League.   


Anyone breaking these rules would be placed under a mind block, preventing the person the use of their telepathic abilities. The military was   
known to bend these rules, but this knowledge was privy only to a select few under War Powers Act 305. 

Kovas typed in his clearance code and submitted himself to a retinal scan. At the end of every month he had to review all the Academy's new   
projects. Seconds later he was in the database looking up new R&D projects. Glancing over at the list he found one new addition - Vampire. That   
was interesting, he did not remember anything new coming across his desk. He selected the project and immediately a screen popped up asking for   
verification. Kovas typed in his ID Code. It was rejected. That in itself was also very unusual, he had one of the highest security clearances in the   
Academy. He tried several more times to be sure he didn't make a typing error, but the results were the same. Growing annoyed he tried several   
back doors in the system. Finally, one of them worked. The Telepath quickly read over the material, horrified by what he just found - a conspiracy   
within the Academy. 

Kovas saved the file again on a data crystal; he decided he would show it right away to one of his friends in the Academy, Tyler Durgen, who's   
office was three floors below him. He quickly walked to the turbo lift, and found another Telepath already there. He was no one Kovas knew, but   
that wasn't unusual, new recruits were coming in everyday. The senior instructor pressed the button for the twenty-first floor. Half way through   
the descent the turbo lift suddenly stopped. 

"What the Hell..." Before Kovas could finish his sentence his mind was telepathically attacked like never before. Immediately he put up mental   
barriers but the onslaught was too great. He fell to the ground clutching his head. Before he passed out he saw the stranger Telepath standing over   
him... smiling. 

Parker's mind was on the run. Whoever was conducting this attack was very good. Every barrier he put up was torn down, every counterattack   
was blocked. Worse, he couldn't find any openings or weaknesses in his attacker's mind. Slowly, the attacker would have full control over Kovas.   
The only option was to escape. He stretched his mind as far as he could, trying to find something he could latch on. He found nothing, the adversary   
blocked off every avenue. Suddenly, there was something on the periphery. Kovas could feel a spark; a new life was coming into this world with a   
cry reverberating throughout the telepathic plane with tremendous force. Parker grabbed for the life force and tried something never attempted by   
any known Telepath. He tried to merge his conscience into the child's unconscious mind. Kovas felt his last barriers being demolished by his attacker   
but he accomplished his task. His mind had escaped his body. 

Half an hour later Kovas Parker's office exploded, destroying everything within. Parker's remains were found within the blast. Later, an   
investigation determined that a miss-aligned power converter in the wall caused the explosion. The whole incident was written off as an unfortunate   
accident and Kovas Parker was given a State Funeral with full honors.   


The Present.   


Derek regained conscience and found Stella leaning over him. His helmet was missing, but he gathered she had removed it while he was out cold. 

"What the Hell did you do that for?" she shouted. "You could have killed both of us!" 

Derek tried to get up, but he felt dizzy. "How long was I out?" he asked. He propped himself up on his elbows. 

"A few minutes. You scared me! You do something like that again and I will kill you," 

she leveled, and playfully punched him in the shoulder. 

"Trust me, I did the right thing." 

Derek told her about the premonition he had right before he went for the controls. Stella just nodded not knowing what to say. Instead, she gave   
him a big hug. 

"I am just glad you're all right," she finally said. Derek tried to kiss her but she quickly got up. 

"I am still mad at you, mister!" she added, and then helped him up. 

"Ok, let's go." 

Once they got to their destination Derek told Stella about the dream he had while he was out. She told him that he was crazy, but Derek was made   
a mental note to himself to do some research about this once he got home. Then he put all of this out of his mind so he could enjoy this time together   
with Stella. But in the back of his mind something was still bothering him. He felt different, as if something was added to his consciousness. 

Derek ignored the strange feeling and started to set up their picnic.   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Priorities

__________________________**5**____________________________   
  


**Priorities**   
by Anatol Rathbaurer   


**Sector C**   
**Maran Community**   
**Maran Home system, Aár**   
  


The well known busy sounds of the bridge surrounded him. To his left sat First Mate Teroni at the Armament Control, and to his right Second   
Mate Alabatano at the Com and Sensor Station. In front of his own command chair were the two consoles of the pilot and the navigator. Everyone   
went about his own business, leaving the Captain with nothing to do but wait. Because of the planetary alignment more satellites than usual would   
direct their sensory arrays at that cosmic spectacle. Satellites normally needed to sweep the system in search of pirate ships. Pirate ships like his. 

He was hiding on the opposite side of the sun to where the alignment was about to take place, inside the asteroid belt of the Maran home system,   
Aár. The pirates were waiting for a diamond transport coming through. If the transport was on time, it would come into sensor range during the next   
hour. The raid would make a rich man of him and his whole crew, even when one subtracted the share of the Triad. 

Of course he, like all pirates, had acquired his ship from one of the Triads. The Triads also organized the loyal shipyards who repaired the pirate   
vessels after battle and supplied them with what they needed. Controlling practically all pirate activity, the Triads were the heart of the Terchan pirate   
movement. Most Terchans didn't care for the Triads' goals, but regarded them as a necessary evil to follow their trade. That was okay, though, since   
the Triads didn't really care for the pirates either, but used them to prepare the glorious reclaiming of the Terchan Empire down on Maranar that would   
come one day. Ever since the Terchan Empire had been defeated in the world war and was destroyed completely, the Terchans did not see themselves   
as Maran anymore. They regarded themselves as distinctly different, although they naturally still shared the same biology. Now the Terchans had their   
own colony, Sanoan, and the Captain for his part was sure he wouldn't care to leave it for Maranar even if the Empire was retaken tomorrow; after all,   
Sanoan was the perfect base for all pirate activity. 

Hypnotized by the black void and the distant stars on the bridgescreen, Captain Merada thought about his home. This time it had been harder for him   
than usual to leave. His wife was pregnant and he would have liked to be with her when she gave birth to their first child. Briefly the Captain wondered   
whether it would be a boy or a girl. Not that it really mattered much, but deep inside him he longed for a boy. He would show him how to hunt in the   
endless woods of Sanoan, and together they would work on their house near Velomet. Later, they would go privateering together, father and son. How   
grand that would be! A blinking, green status light caught his attention. 

The Captain tucked at his short ruffle collar and brushed over his satin clothes to order his thoughts again. 

The Second Mate addressed him, "Captain Merada?" 

"Yes?" 

"A Maran frigate is appearing within sensor range. They have laid a course that will cross the anticipated route of the transport." 

The Captain frowned and pulled on the false beard that was modern on Sanoan right now. 

"You think they are an escort?" 

"Probably," replied the man. "What should we do?" 

The insider reports had not mentioned an escort. Merada thought aloud. 

"If we destroy the frigate, the transport will notice the debris and become suspicious. If we do nothing now,   
the two ships might engage in a rendez-vous. It will be impossible to hinder the transport from escaping while   
we are battling the frigate then." 

"Captain, if I may?" asked the First Mate. His superior nodded. 

"I suggest we lure the frigate away from here and lose it in the asteroid belt. If we return here while they are   
still searching for us, we can plunder the transport and disappear before the reinforcements the frigate will likely   
call for arrive." 

The Captain pondered this for a moment, then he said: 

"It sounds possible, but timing is critical in such an action." 

Affirmatively the First Mate nodded and then shrugged. Obviously he didn't want to take the responsibility. The Second Mate threw him a   
doubting glance. 

"We will wait," Merada finally decided. Both mates turned back to their stations and did not drop another word. They knew any decision of   
their Captain was final. 

A few moments later the Second Mate Alabatano spoke again. 

"The frigate is reaching the assumed rendez-vous point now. No reduction of speed. Passing ideal point.   
Entering tolerance margin. Speed unchanged. Exiting tolerance margin. Captain, they're going away!" 

Perfect, thought the Terchan Captain. Maybe today is our lucky day!   


*****   


Vilada was walking through the garden with her maid. The girl was carrying an umbrella to shield her mistress from the sun. Sometimes Vilada felt   
like the wife of one of the members of the autonomous council. Her skirt, an exclusive piece of clothing that had been very expensive, brushed over the   
high grass of her garden and Vilada embraced her stout belly that carried her child inside. 

When the two reached the small wooden pavilion, she stopped and sat down on a bench to look up into the sky. Sanoan was only a moon, and so   
its atmosphere was comparably thin. The planetary alignment was clearly visible in the sky. How beautiful it was, thought Vilada. She adored the sight,   
even though the alignment wasn't complete yet. But it would be in a bit more than an hour. The woman looked up and wondered whether the planetary   
constellation had any special meaning. The Maran news were full of it, and it seemed that the whole galaxy was totally excited about the alignments of   
several solar systems falling on the same galactic day. Vilada, however, only found it beautiful. 

Suddenly she felt a bit uncomfortable, and thought she had sat down on a wet spot. Standing up, she noticed that her skirt was soaked and realized   
the implication of it. 

"My fruit blister just ripped," she announced, wondering why she hadn't felt it immediately. 

The maid stared at her wide-eyed, then she burst into a flurry of activity, trying to get hot water, towels, cushions and a doctor all at once. 

"Calm down," Vilada commanded, "And prepare to contact my husband!" 

"But, Ma'am!" cried the girl, "Your husband is... I mean... he doesn't want to be contacted when   
he is... you know..." 

Vilada reached her hand out to touch the girl on her cheek consolingly and repeated: 

"Prepare to contact my husband!" 

The girl nodded and ran away to do everything that was necessary. Vilada sat down again and looked at the alignment. What a perfect moment,   
she thought.   


***** 

The Terchan ship carefully maneuvered behind a large asteroid. Not far from it a transport was slowly moving by, at least ten times as large as   
the tiny pirate ship. 

"Transport coming into range!" shouted the Second Mate. 

The Captain clapped his hands together and gave out orders he had given a hundred times before. 

"Ready all weapons, lay in an interception course, assemble the men in the boarding hatches!   
All men to battle stations!" 

A red light flashed on, and the bridge was completely silent except for the clicking of the crewmen punching orders into the keyboards of their   
consoles. The ship accelerated and left the asteroid behind, heading for a clearing in the other rocks' tracks. Captain Merada stood up, straightened   
himself and inspected his Shredderpistol and his sword. Let's make this a lucky day, he mused. 

Suddenly, the familiar chirp of the intercom interrupted the silence. 

"What the...?" cursed Alabatano. 

"A direct hail?" wondered Merada. "The Maran frigate?" 

"No, Captain. I'm checking the ID encoding right now. It's a Terchan code."   
And a second later: "Captain, it's a message from your wife." 

"Put it through!" demanded the Captain. 

"We can be spotted when we do, Captain. And the frigate is still somewhere out there..." 

"I know. And my wife knows, too. She wouldn't call if it wasn't important." 

The Second Mate decoded the message and then put it on the speakers. The Captain's   
wife's voice filed the bridge. She sounded short-breathed and exhausted, but happy. 

"Atono Merada, I am calling you to tell you of marvelous things that have happened here.   
I just came down with a beautiful and healthy son. Your son, Atono! I wish you could see   
him; he's so strong and lively - just like his father. I don't want to make this longer than   
necessary, as I know it is dangerous, so please come home as quickly as possible. I love you!" 

Captain Merada stood in the middle of the silent bridge and fought against the tears of happiness. A boy! A lovely, healthy, strong little boy!   
Then he thought of his wife, and he wanted to be with her. This was indeed a lucky day. 

"Captain?" queried his First Mate. "We will be in weapons' range in ten seconds." 

The Terchan Captain gave that a quick thought, and then he announced: 

"Pilot, turn around! Plot a course to Sanoan - the fastest route possible!" 

More than only one questioning eyebrow was raised at the order, but no one dared to challenge the Captain. And he himself didn't care. He only   
wanted to see his wife and his boy. Throwing the transport a last look as his own ship elegantly swung round and faced the asteroid belt again, he   
thought of all the lives that had been spared today. Apparently it was their lucky day as well, he thought. 

Behind them, the planets of Aár reached the full alignment, and the solar eruption caused by the combined gravitic fields of the planets made the   
sun glare brighter than before for the fraction of a moment. 

It was like even the sun was announcing the birth of a certain child.   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. A Simple Favor

__________________________**6**____________________________   


**A Simple Favor**   
by Mark Proctor   


**Sector B**   
**Kingdom of Laria**   
**Laria**   
  
  


Just outside the town of White River on the planet of Laria: 

Kalia read the note one more time before destroying it with a simple fire spell. She looked out the window seeing her husband Triam fitting   
the rear axle to the wagon for the miller. Rising from her chair she headed outside. He and his helpers were loading weights on the back of the   
wagon, making sure it could hold what the miller wanted it for. When he saw her he walked over. 

"Was it an important message?" he asked. 

"Yes, King Halran wants me to hunt down someone who's stolen some TFPs from the starport over on Linare's Island." 

Triam thought for a second. 

"You mean those intelligent machines those people were telling us about? They are pretty expensive, it's no wonder someone   
decided to lift some of them." 

"It's not just that, they were meant for the Omnet Citadel, and they've decided to put some pressure on Halran to get them back.   
It's that' or they'll send some of their own men to do the search." 

"Hah! I'll bet that got him going,.I've heard that Halran squirms anytime someone suggests that we actually try to attract aliens.   
The occupation was hard, but not all races are like they were. Besides, we set them packing anyway." 

"Triam, you know that's not how it is, he's just being cautious. Besides, he's completely right about being worried in this case.   
The IGNM, who run those citadels, is the only group that can provide news and information through the whole galaxy. If they   
decide to pull out, we'll be completely cut. It wasn't so bad when no one knew we were here, but now that people know about   
us, loosing outside communication could be as good as asking for another invasion." 

"So... why are you going? I thought you were done with this stuff? Why not just have some guards from there look into it?" 

"They think magic might have been involved, and I am the closest person who can check for sure." 

"I don't like you going alone. You should take someone with you," said Traim. 

"Don't worry about me, I work better alone any ways. I have to get ready to leave now. I'll be careful, trust me. And... I will   
have a surprise to tell you when I get back."   
  
  


* * *   


The Foam Rider came to a gentle stop against the dock as daylight began to fade. Kalia quickly headed for the gangplank before it was even   
secured. Though it was a short trip to reach the island, she didn't want to be on the boat for a minute longer than necessary. She carried her small   
pack with her as she crossed the plank glad to finally have solid ground beneath her feet. 

Regaining her composure as she set off at a steady pace looking for an inn to stay while she conducted her search. Picking out one of the best   
inns in town, and their best room she paid the bill. If Halran wanted her to clean up his problems then he could pay for her comfort while she did it.   
Completing the transaction she handed the innkeeper her pack to take to her room and went outside to check out the taverns. There is always   
information in such places if one has ears and more importantly money. She had no worries about his going through her pack while she was gone,   
anything of any importance or value was secreted in the many pockets of her robes, as always.   
  


* * *   


An hour after dark another boat pulled alongside the dock. Two figures climbed onto the dock from the small fishing boat, and after one tied off   
the boat they shook hands and split apart going their separate ways.   
  


* * *   


The next morning Kalia woke early, and began by preparing some spells. After her night of questioning people in the bars she knew where and   
when the most recent theft had taken place. She knew spells that would allow her to 'see' and 'hear' what had happened, but she had to have them   
prepared before she went to the site. Next, she began to draw a mystical symbol on the floor, allowing her to safely transport herself there with a few   
words and a single gesture. She had once used the same spell without the guiding symbol and it had nearly lead to her death. 

*An escape route is no good if it is more dangerous than what you are trying to escape,* she thought finishing her preparations. 

By the time shopkeepers were opening their doors Kalia was moving through the near empty streets to a stable where she bought a horse. Ten   
minutes later she arrived at the Starport. As she expected there was very little activity in the area. As she rode up to the control building she noticed   
a small freighter sitting on one side of the port by itself with several guards standing at its doors. It was the IGNM supply ship for the Omnet Citadel,   
unlike the several Larian shuttles parked on the other side of the field. 

It only took her five minutes to convince Coren, the starport chief that she was working under King Halran's orders. If he wanted to remain in   
charge he was to provide all the assistance she required. 

Kalia and her guide walked over to the freighter where the guards steeped aside with a single gesture from Coren. Kalia was lead to a small cargo   
hold near the front of the ship. She had looked around the room before spreading some powder from a pouch, forming a solid line surrounding most   
of the room as well as the hallway immediately outside of it. With everything ready she stepped into the center of the cargo hold and began making   
elaborate gestures, speaking the words of the spell in a loud clear voice. 

The world around her became blurry and indistinct and with the final words of the spell the world snapped back into focus. The hold was now   
full of crates of various sizes and the door was now closed. She was seeing the room exactly as it was five nights ago when the full moon was reaching   
its peak. She walked over to the nearest crates and examined the labels on them - high tech items bound for the Omnet Citadel for the most part. Next,   
she locate the crates she was most interested in, the ones holding the TFPson the far side of the hold, and just barely within the spell area. Suddenly, the   
door whisked open and Kalia turned to see an empty doorway. Quickly casting a small spell to penetrate invisibility she looked around the room again. 

Standing in front of the TFP crates was a tall, gray-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard. His face was crossed by scars sweeping backwards   
from each cheek and his eyes were dark and nearly hidden by his hair. Kalia knew him, he was a man who should have been dead almost twenty years   
past, and again during the occupation by the aliens. It was Zalthar, and Kalia's mind raced as she tried to determine what his involvement in the thefts   
could mean. Zalthar was calmly and carefully drawing a symbol on the crate as she approached. When he finished he moved to the next crate to draw   
the same symbol on that one as well. 

Kalia examined the symbol he had drawn on the first one - a teleportation spell much like the one she had prepared. Turning, she kept a close watch   
on Zalthar as he finished his work. After marking the final crate he stepped to the middle of the room and began the spell to transport the crates to his   
safe location. She watched them all fade from view and the sound of the wind which accompanied the spell. Surprisingly, Zalthar himself remained behind.   
Nodding to himself he turned towards the door and walked back into the hallway and out of the range of her magic. 

Breaking her spell Kalia found herself once more within the empty cargo hold. Coren was just outside the door watching her. She hadn't included him   
in the enchantment and so all he had seen was her walking around the room examining things which were not there. 

"I'm done," she said walking past him for the exit of the ship. "You can return to your work now." 

Coren glanced back in the room and followed after her. 

"But... you didn't do anything? What happened to the cargo?" 

She stopped and turned to face him. 

"I know who has it now, and if you will leave me be I will find out where he is, and get it back." 

With that she turned around and quickly left the ship. Kalia rode back to town, stabled her horse, and spent the rest of the morning talking to   
shopkeepers hoping that one would recognize Zalthar's description. Eating at lunch she then spent part of the afternoon talking to barkeeps and   
innkeepers offering a good reward for anyone who knew Zalthar, or a person matching his description. Finishing, she returned her room and   
relaxed for the rest of the day. 

That evening she started again, going from inn to bar to see if there was any news. She met with several people, handed out more money   
than she had expected, but in theend she was certain she knew where Zalthar was. Going back to her room she preparedfor the confrontation.   
Gathering her possessions she left for the stables, leaving a note ofwhat she had learned addressed to King Halran, and a guaranty of payment   
for anywho delivered it to the proper authorities. 

A figure watched from the shadows as she rode out of town, then quickly entered the stable for a horse and followed, making sure not to be seen. 

Kalia rode through the quiet forests that covered most of the inland area of the island. She was close to her destination now, and not far from   
the Omnet Citadel based in an abandoned keep on the coast. She had ridden until full night had fallen before she finally saw her destination. 

Zalthar' home was a large, sturdy building. One story high, but made of stone and covering the entire field in which it was built. The windows   
were all tightly shuttered, and the front door protected by what, from where she was standing, looked to be a portcullis with only a small overgrown   
cart path leading to it. It looked to be easily defended, and if Zalthar had many men inside it could make her job almost impossible. Luckily, he rarely   
employed guards, but instead relied upon his on magic against his rivals. 

Confident that she would find only servants and Zalthar himself inside Kalia boldly walked by the cart path to the front door. She could see now   
it actually was a portcullis barring the door. She didn't know why he would bar the door so well, yet have normal sized windows with only shutters for   
protection. Looking at the iron gate she quickly decided on a course of action. Reaching into a pocket she took out a lump of clay, broke off a piece,   
and after wetting it from her waterskin, molded it around two bars at head and ankle level. With that she picked up a large stick form the ground and   
put it within reach. Closing her eyes she started a spell, her hands making quick gestures, speaking as quickly as she could. The bars where the clay was   
wrapped started heating up, then changing colors. After a minute she stopped and opened her eyes. Using the stick she slammed it against the top of one   
of the bars. With a crack it broke. 

At that moment, far inside the house, a small glass ball shattered, and as Kalia continued to break two more weakened bars. Within the house there   
was hurried movement. Reaching through the bars Kalia tried the door and found it unlocked. A foul stench greeted her as she swung the door open.   
Holding her breath she stepped through the entrance letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting. Something moved on the far side of the room and   
she stepped back in surprise as the creature moved out of the shadows. 

The thing was like nothing she had ever seen - like a strange mix of creatures. Its head looked like a reptile's, and the forelegs were those of a large   
cat. Its rear legs were large and thick like those of a bear or some other large animal. The torso was covered with a leathery hide which, she could not   
place. After it left the shadows the creature reared up on its hind legs making it much taller than Kalia. As it did so she could make out some strange sort   
of helmet on its head. 

"You will have to leave, the master is not receiving any visitors." 

Kalia stared at the creature in surprise. It could talk, and in a perfectly normal, even vaguely familiar voice. 

*I'll have to be careful with this,* she thought. *There's no telling what it's capable of.* 

"Let me pass," she commanded,."I must see your master." 

As she spoke she went over the gestures for a powerful spell knowing that she would have only one chance if it came to a fight. 

"You may not pass, that is the masters command. If you do not leave at once you shall be killed." 

"Surely your master will speak to me, simply ask him and he will agree," she said, then thought,   
*I only need a moments distraction and I can get this spell off.* 

Without warning the creature rushed forward with a couple of short steps on its hind legs, then covered the remaining distance by simply allowing   
itself to fall with clawed forelegs sweeping towards her. Throwing herself backwards Kalia barely avoided the worst of the attack, yet the claws caught   
in her robes spun her to the side. She immediately pushed herself up on her elbow and with her free hand began the gestures necessary for her spell.   
Chanting softly she watched as the thing turned towards her, snarling before throwing itself back at her. 

Kalia finished the last of the spell as it was leaping. With a shout a blast shot from her hand, catching the creature in the head, and knocking it   
backwards with sparks flying from the odd helmet it wore. 

Climbing to her feet she watched it carefully for any signs of movement as she edged around the room, thinking that its stillness might be a trick.   
As she reached the far door she got a clearer view of the creature's head. There was a little wisp of black smoke rising from the helmet itself, and some   
blood, dripping from the inside of it. Feeling sure the creature was really no more of a threat she slipped out the door and proceeded with her search   
for Zalthar. 

She carefully searched the house, not knowing what other surprises would be awaiting her. She had never seen a TFP before, which meant that she   
was going to have to confront Zalthar and get him to give her them. This wasn't going to be easy, he wasn't the sort who would give away anything,   
much less something which had value. She was still thinking of how to get the TFPs from Zalthar when she stepped back into a hallway after searching   
a room. Standing a few meters away he watched her without saying a word. 

"So, it is you behind this, I'm surprised you're still alive. The order must not be as thorough as they once were," she said. 

"You're still the same I see," replied Zalthar. "Still poking your nose where it doesn't belong. I don't know why you are here,   
or how you got past my guardian, but you'll find it was a mistake to come." 

With that Zalthar threw a handful of dirt into the air and with a short command it flew towards Kalia. Slashing downward with her hand and a   
quick command. Kalia caused the sand to split into two, flying around her, where it hit a wall and hardened into stone. 

"I'm here for the TFPs you've stolen. Be glad that it's me here to retrieve them and not whoever the IGNM would normally send," said Kalia as she   
started making grasping gestures with her hands. 

"And now you are going to tell me where they are." 

The Sorceress walked towards Zalthar smiling as she watched him tense in the invisible bonds surrounding him. Smiling, Zalthar looked up at her. 

"It's been a long time since I've seen anyone tried this on me. It's always been one of my favorites you know." 

Closing his eyes Zalthar muttered something and Kalia felt her spell shatter. 

"After the TFPs are you? Well, it's too bad you've already walked past a few and didn't even notice them. I'm sure you've   
heard how smart my creations are, how do you think I control the one at the door hmm?" 

Raising his hand, with a quickly command a burst of energy shot from it towards Kalia. She was barely able to raise both hands to create a translucent   
shield, deflecting the bolt. Letting the shield fall and disappear she took a closer look at Zalthar. She was starting to suspect he had something up his sleeve.   
Normally one would use a spell that was rare or hard to counter in the hopes of ending a duel, such as this, as quickly as possible. He wasn't doing that.   
In fact he was doing the exact opposite. She had learned that shielding spell years ago while she was still an apprentice. 

"So you had the TFP hidden in the helmet did you? It wasn't very effective, I doubt you'll have any more chances   
to improve on it though." 

Lifting her hands she sent a wave of cold to sap his strength. Just as it reached him he sent out a blast of flame causing a blast of steam as it hit the   
cold. The steam cleared and a ring he had been wearing began to glow brightly. Smiling grimly Zalthar looked up at her, holding the ring for her to see. 

"Ah, my little surprise is ready now. I've grown tired of this little chat, I'm afraid it's time to finish you now." 

Closing his eyes Zalthar mumbled something softly while holding up his ring hand. After a second an invisible force struck Kalia, sending her flying   
backwards down the hallway. Opening his eyes he smiled again as he watched her struggle to get back to her 

feet holding her head. 

Kalia wasn't sure what he had just done, but she knew that she was in trouble. The pain from her head was distracting her and she pulled something   
in her back when she had fallen. Zalthar on the other hand was still unhurt, and apparently already thinking he had won. She had to admit that wasn't   
exactly a hard conclusion to reach. She had to take him out right away least he repeat his last attack until she could no longer move. Kalia knew what she   
had to do, but it was a long shot. Clearing her head as much as possible she started a loud rhythmic chant while making elaborate gestures. 

Zalthar looked on in horror as a globe of bright light began forming in front of her. He didn't know the spell, but he recognized it immediately. If that   
sphere touched him there would be nothing left of him. It couldn't be stopped easily, but if he could match its power he could still win. With his voice rising   
and falling, he quickly began a spell of his own . 

The globe in front of Kalia began to stretch out towards Zalthar, speeding up as it went. Suddenly, a shaft of darkness flared from his hands, meeting   
the light between them. Both mages were completely focused on their spell. Whoever could keep their enchantment longer would be victorious. 

Outside, a figure moved quietly through the darkness towards the open doorway slipping through the entrance he paused on seeing the creature within.   
Stepping past it carefully he moved quietly towards the door to the rest of the house. The darkness of the night was suddenly lightened as three distant stars   
glowed brightly. Inside a shaft of bright light fell across the creature's eyes. The light faded to normal and the creature began to twitch. 

Opening the door, Triam stuck his head through looking down the hallway. 

"Sir, you should know that I have lost control of my body as it is. I am also afraid it is hungry. Just thought I should warn you." 

Spinning around Triam was amazed to see that it was the creature which had spoken to him. As it then bared its teeth he realized what it was that had   
been said. Turning, he ran for his life. 

Kalia and Zalthar faced each other with a stream of light and darkness stretching between them. Holding such powerful spells so long was having its   
effect on each of them. Kalia was sweating and could feel her head getting light. She could see that Zalthar was beginning to sweat as well, but he was   
showing no other outward signs of the strain. 

When the ring he was wearing began glowing once more Zalthar changed his chant and the darkness deepened and began to slowly move towards   
Kalia swallowing the light as it went. There was noise coming from somewhere but Kalia couldn't afford to concentrate on it, the darkness was close now.   
Putting all her strength into her spell she slowed the darkness to a stop right in front of her. 

She couldn't concentrate, her head still throbbed, as her strength was slowly disappearing. She tried to focus on just the chant, but her mind couldn't   
focus any more. Then she missed a word and her spell weakened. 

"I suggest you don't stop. It is really working up quite the appetite you know." 

Triam skidded around a corner and burst ahead wishing it would stop taunting him. He could hear the creature hit the wall right behind him. Doors   
couldn't stop it, and it was faster than he was. The only reason he was still alive was that the thing couldn't turn easily. He could see another corner up   
ahead and he tried running faster to reach it. He had just about to turn the corner when he heard Kalia scream out in pain from just around the corner. 

Turning the last corner Triam saw his wife surrounded by a cloud of darkness coming from the hands of a man standing with his back to him. Putting   
his shoulder down Triam covered the distance just as the man started to turn his head. The two of them flew forward rolling on the ground. Zalthar was   
able to get up first, and looked down at Triam with anger. Lifting his arms he prepared to cast a spell until he heard something else in the hallway. The   
creature stared at him and licked its teeth. 

"Master, I have lost control of your guardian. I am afraid it thinks that you would make a good meal for it." 

Zalthar gestured quickly and mumbled a quick command as a haze formed around him. The creature lunged, grabbing for him as they both faded from   
view. Rushing over to Kalia Triam saw her eyes open as she tried to sit up. Suddenly, she gasped and grabbed his arm. 

"An aging spell. Oh no..." Kalia reached down and held her belly as she looked up at Triam. 

"Do you remember my telling you about a surprise for you once I got back?" 

Her belly began swelling before his eyes. She reached down and started pulling up her robes preparing for the new life that was coming. As he watched   
her, her breathing started to change and once again she grabbed her husband's arm. 

Outside a new star could be seen in line with those stars which had so recently glowed so brightly. As the moon started its arc in the sky the sound of   
a baby crying could be heard from within the mansion. 

Inside, Triam stared as his wife and child continued to age as he watched. His daughter's aging was beginning to slow down but Kalia was still aging   
rapidly. Slowly her aging also slowed down to normal, but it looked like she had gained over ten years in just a minute. Their daughter appeared to be   
around two years old and healthy as she lay on the floor crying. 

An hour later Triam came out of the house carrying his daughter and supporting Kalia as they moved over to the horses. Climbing up, they turned   
towards the Omnet Citadel hoping to receive some help from the people there in payment for the location of the stolen TFPs. 

As they rode through the woods, their daughter quietly watched the bright stars above them.   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Hopeful Beginnings

__________________________**7**____________________________   


**Hopeful Beginnings,**   
**or, Irkk Plays (Yet) Another**   
**Practical Joke On His Lifelong Friend**   
by Jeremy Hussell   
  
  


**Sector: Unknown**   
**Q-dex: Quarantined**   
  


With a jerk, Nurol was thrown back against his seat as the pod hit the first deceleration net. He watched as the image in front of him showed   
the net rip and fall away from the pod, its purpose fulfilled. Behind the pod he could see multi-legged Ydmyn workers already moving out across   
the net to repair the section the pod had just punched through. Around them the green, moss-covered walls of the shaft moved past at a slightly   
reduced speed as the pod moved deeper into the ship-state. Above them, through the already repaired net, Nurol could still see the stars, as if from   
the bottom of a well. As always, they called to him, inviting him to go out and explore distant places. Unfortunately, his contemplation was interrupted   
when he was again thrown back against his seat as the pod hit the next deceleration net. 

"Irkk! Turn that image around, I want to have a little warning when we hit the next net!" 

"Ha! Getting too old for this kind of thing, are we Nurol?" cackled the bird-like Olrak in the seat on his left. 

"I remember when you would insist that I keep the view pointed out at the stars until we   
had come to rest on the fourth net," said the Olrak to his right. 

"You must finally be gaining a little of the wisdom that's supposed to come with old age!" it continued, as the Olrak strapped in above adjusted   
the view so that it showed the third net approaching from the front. As always, Irkk was being irreverent. 

Irkk looked exactly like a small flock of gray, jay-sized birds with iridescent colours constantly shimmering across the feathers of their heads.   
Individually, an Olrak is only about as intelligent as a two-year-old human, albeit an incurably curious two-year-old, always getting into things and   
becoming fascinated with shiny objects. But together, in a flock, those iridescent sparkles on their heads act as some sort of communications link,   
binding their minds together into a single individual so long as they are in line of sight of one-another. The result is a single sentient, an Olrawan,   
that can match wits with any human. Unfortunately (or fortunately, as Irkk would insist), Olrawan personalities tend to concentrate all the rambun-   
ctiousness and exuberance of their Olraks, often making them perpetual pranksters and clowns. 

Nurol could practically sense Irkk's grin, even when all the Olraks in its flock were strapped to their seats. Suspiciously, he checked all around   
him for anything out of place, something missing, or not where it was supposed to be. Finding nothing, he looked back at the view and relaxed as   
they hit the third net, and he was pushed back into his seat, much more gently than the first time. Then he looked back at one of Irkk's Olraks. 

"You're not about to play another practical joke on me, are you? I know something's up,   
I've known you too long for you to pull something on me." 

"Would I do that?" said the Olrak he was looking at, feigning innocence. 

"Yeah," said the one behind it. "I've learned my lesson, I'll never coat the wall handles with   
glue when we're being chased by an angry senog again." 

"Nope, never again," repeated the first. 

"Then why are you sparkling in purple so much? You always do that when you're up to something." 

"Er... look! Here comes the fourth net!" 

This time, the net didn't break, but stretched and then rebounded. The fourth net was sticky, so instead of rebounding back up the shaft, the pod   
stayed put as the net absorbed its motion. Wasting no time, four Ydmyn workers launched themselves from the walls and glided towards the pod,   
trailing lines in the microgravity. Working quickly, they attached their lines to the pod and sprayed a solvent on the bottom to detach it from the net,   
then began to haul it into a side-tunnel. 

"I'm not going to be distracted. What are you up to Irkk?" 

"I'm not up to anything... not really... I'm not even planning a practical joke right now. Um, here comes the airlock." 

With a synchronized shove, the four Ydmyn pushed the pod through a layer of translucent material stretched across the tunnel, which sealed itself   
tightly around the pod, allowing only a tiny puff of air to escape before healing behind them. The Ydmyn, protected by their chitinous exoskeletons   
from the vacuum and able to go hours without air, turned back and headed out to get the next pod. Meanwhile another quartet appeared and began   
to guide the pod down the tunnel again. Within seconds the tunnel opened out into a large space, criss-crossed with tree-branch supporting beams, and   
crowded with more pods, Ydmyn, other types of transport, and the occasional piece of debris the Ydmyn had captured and brought in. With practiced   
motions, the quartet of Ydmyn moved the pod to a nearby support-branch and secured it there, then moved off. Another Ydmyn, this one with limbs   
obviously specialized for cutting, approached along the support. 

"Time to go. I'm still not distracted though. Let's move." 

Nurol unstrapped himself, as the Olraks let the image dissolve and freed themselves. With a crunch, the Ydmyn cut through the tough shell of the   
pod, carving a hole into their chamber. While Nurol and Irkk exited, the Ydmyn moved aft and began to crack open the pod's other compartments,   
revealing the supplies inside. 

Picking a point across the room, Nurol aimed carefully, waited a moment, and then leaped off the support, heading precisely towards his chosen   
landing area. The Olraks followed, flying easily in the micro-gravity, moving past and around him. 

"Don't even think about bumping me off course, Irkk." 

"Yes, I know," said one of the Olrak, folding its wings and coasting along side him. 

"We can make course changes in midair, and you can't, and if I play that trick again   
you'll make me start towing you around." 

"But that doesn't mean it wasn't funny the first time!" laughed another as it shot by, heading in the opposite direction. 

"So what are you up to?" 

The Olrak coasting alongside Nurol looked annoyed. 

"It always amazes me how persistent you are, Nurol." 

"Yeah, you're so single-minded!" commented another as it passed by. 

"If I were you," continued the first "I would be watching that bundle of   
cargo that's about to cross our path with at least four of my Olraks." 

Nurol glanced at the bundle of supplies, at least ten times his size, which was slowly being hauled across the chamber by a team of Ydmyn. 

"It's been, what, something like sixty years now that I've been living in microgravity.   
I may have been a klutz at first, but I know what I'm doing now." 

Nonetheless, Nurol and Irkk watched carefully as the bundle cleared their path just moments before they passed by. If Nurol had not waited a   
moment before jumping, he would have collided with the bundle. A few moments later, the Olrak beside him unfurled its wings and began to brake,   
while Nurol prepared to land on the support-branch ahead. With practiced grace, he landed on his hands and feet, grabbing at the bark and vines to   
prevent himself from rebounding. Letting his feet drift, he looked about as Irkk regrouped, and spotted an exit tunnel nearby in the wall of the   
chamber. 

An Ydmyn worker paused for a moment and watched as Nurol turned himself about and pushed off towards the tunnel, then turned away as he   
and Irkk disappeared into the tunnel. If it had stayed a moment longer, it would have heard Nurol's receding voice asking: 

"So, what are you up to?"   


==============================   


Nenle had never seen so many humans together in one place in her entire life. Why, hundreds, even a THOUSAND people had shown up for   
the gathering! Dozens of children her own age AND species! The only downside was that since the gathering was being held in a section of the   
ship-state that was being spun to give weight, Nenle couldn't SEE anything. Instead, she found herself surrounded by a forest of legs, unable to   
see the musicians and singers up front. She could hear them warming up, getting ready to sing the songs, so she began to move through the crowd   
towards them as fast as she could, hoping to get to the front before they started. It looked like she was going to make it, when all of a sudden she   
ran right smack into the back of somebody's legs. She lay there for a moment, dazed, and then she was being hoisted up by the old, white haired   
man who's legs she'd run into. She found herself sitting on his shoulder, far above the crowd, with a really good view of the singers and musicians   
up front. 

"Wow, you sure are strong! I didn't think anybody could lift me at this weight anymore!" she told him. 

"Oh, this? It's not as strong as I grew up in. Look, they're starting the songs." 

She turned quickly, and almost toppled off the man's shoulder, but he steadied her with his arm, and then the performers were beginning to sing   
and play. She listened, fascinated, as they began to sing the stories of the Greater Galaxy, a place fractured into thousands of bubbles, each one containing   
its own reality, its own stars and civilizations. Songs about strange planets, larger than any ship, some barren but with spectacular natural beauty, others   
lush with life and inhabited by fantastic peoples or dangerous monsters. Stories about great empires spanning many star systems, empires with wondrous   
magics or astounding technologies. Sometimes both! Stories of renowned explorers, people who learned to cross the walls between the bubbles and traveled   
the galaxy seeking new places and peoples, learning new and wonderful things. Tales of the rise of empires and organizations that followed the explorers   
and began to spread to the different zones of reality, and find each other. Stories about those that by one, the explorers were either rescued by a ship-state,   
or made contact themselves, and joined the descendants of the explorers who had come before, among the diverse native sentients. 

For hundreds of years, little changed. 

Then a new type of explorer began to arrive. They belonged to an organization called Omnet, and they possessed technology like nothing seen   
before, salvaged from an ancient, galaxy-spanning empire. Implants called biolinks allowing sentients to understand each other's languages. Artificial   
minds, called synths, wielding immense information processing capabilities. With these wonders came new hope: perhaps, with the aid of the synths,   
progress could be made on finding a way to cross the wall. For decades we labored, and learned much. We designed our own version of a biolink,   
and the design quickly spread to all the ship-states. We attempted to make our own synths, and although we failed, we managed to create primitive   
computers based on light manipulation magic. But no progress was ever made on propulsion. 

Then, one day, another exploration ship from Omnet arrived, much like the others. These explorers were different, however. They were Omnet's   
ast attempt to explore this zone, and if they did not return, Omnet would declare this zone too dangerous to explore and place warnings around it to   
prevent others from needlessly going to their deaths. A final, desperate attempt was made to find a propulsion system that would allow the explorers   
to escape, but all lines of research led to dead ends. Shortly thereafter a war started in the inner system over the limited resources remaining there.   
The ship-states there viewed synths as valuable strategic advantages, and attempted to capture them and to prevent their adversaries from capturing   
any. One by one, the synths were destroyed, or lost under mysterious circumstances. There may be a few left, hidden away by one player or another   
in the inner system war, but none are left in the outer system, where they would have continued trying to find a way to escape this zone. Nor have any   
more explorers arrived in the years since then, so we must assume that Omnet quarantined our zone. 

At this point the singers and musicians stopped for an intermission. The crowd rustled, and conversations started. 

"That's such a sad story," Nenle told the old man. 

"Well, you don't know the ending yet. Neither do they. Maybe it'll be happier. I've got to go soon, so you should   
look around for someone you know." 

Nenle looked about, and spotted her mother making her way through the crowd towards her. Within a few moments she arrived next to them. 

"Hi Mom! This man lifted me up and let me sit on his shoulder so that I could see the show!" 

Turning towards her, the old man said, 

"Hullo. I'm Nurol. Your daughter was having trouble seeing over the crowd, so I helped her out." 

"Thanks very much. I hope she hasn't been too much trouble." 

"Not at all. I've got to get going now though." 

Nurol lifted Nenle and passed her to her mother, then set off through the crowd towards the front. Nenle watched him go, until an Olrawan flock   
passed overhead, distracting her. The flock settled on the stage up front, and then, with a ripple, an image appeared in the air above, conjured into being   
by the Olrawan. The murmur of voices died down as the people in the crowd began to pay attention. 

"Your attention please!" said all the Olraks in unison. "We have here with us a distinguished visitor!   
He arrived on board the ship-state you see in this image, Baudetvenfe, which is currently holding   
station less than thirty klicks away. Sixty-three years ago, the last Omnet explorers arrived in this zone.   
Among them was a 17 year old waverunner named Nurol. He is here among us today, the last living   
sentient to come from the Greater Galaxy!" 

Nenle watched in astonishment as the old man clambered up onto the stage to stand underneath the image of Baudetvenfe. 

"Greetings sentients!" he shouted to the crowd, and grinned as they cheered. 

"I have come here to make you aware of a momentous event. We are lucky to be here to see it happen,   
and we will remember it for the rest of our lives. I myself have..." 

He trailed off as the crowd's attention suddenly focused on the image of Baudetvenfe, and they began murmuring and pointing. Turning around,   
he craned his neck and looked up to see what was happening. He could see intense activity around the right-hand end of the lumpy, dark green,   
peanut shaped ship-state; thousands of space-capable organisms and sentients moving over the surface, visible only as tiny dots at this range. Many   
were clustered along a line dividing the last fifth or so of the ship from the rest. Peering more closely, Nurol suddenly realized that the line was actually   
a gap between the two sections, and it was getting larger. Shocked, he turned to the Olrawan and whispered: 

"Irkk! Is this happening right now?" 

"Yup! Isn't it grand? Baudetvenfe is dividing!" 

"I can't believe you didn't warn me! You... THIS is what you were planning!" 

Speechless, Nurol turned around and sat down to watch the birth, since the crowd was no longer paying him any attention. After a few moments,   
he began to laugh.   


==============================   


Now that there was nothing more to see, Nurol was addressing the crowd again. 

"Believe it or not folks, I had no idea that was about to happen. Irkk here," 

He gestured at the Olrawan. 

"Tells me that the new ship-state is to be named Eiaoa. It's about 30 km in diameter, bringing Baudetvenfe down to about   
140 km. I'm sure many of you have never been present for the birth of a ship-state. In over sixty years here I've only seen   
a handful myself. This is because the ship-states don't grow very quickly out here in the outer system, due to the scarcity of   
resources. Before Irkk interrupted me, I was going to tell you something that could change all that. Almost a year ago,   
Baudetvenfe was out by the wall. While there, we encountered an eccentric wanderer ship-state called Aitn. So far as we have   
been able to find out, no one else had been close to Aitn for over fifty years. During this time, they had been doing independent   
research on the wall and its properties. When Aitn contacted us, they claimed to have discovered a way to safely cross it." 

Nurol paused for a moment to let the crowd absorb this. They were absolutely silent, even the children could sense the sudden tension in their   
parents, all of whom were descendants of explorers trapped in this zone. 

"They transferred their designs and research to us, and several of their scientists joined our crew. Then they tested their theory." 

Behind and above him, the image Irkk had been projecting flickered and changed to show Aitn, an oblong ship-state, floating in front of the wall.   
The usual light-sails were absent, and no traffic could be seen moving across the surface or in the space around the ship-state. Slowly, with an almost   
majestic grace, the ship-state began to move towards the barrier. The closer it approached, the faster Aitn accelerated. By the time it hit the wall,   
Aitn was moving so fast that only a blur could be seen. It vanished quickly, and after a few seconds, Nurol spoke again. 

"We estimate that their speed when they hit the wall was almost five percent above the critical threshold needed to pass through intact." 

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then a roar as everyone began talking and shouting. People were hugging each other, crying,   
jumping for joy. Nurol stood watching it all, smiling from ear to ear. When things eventually calmed down again, he continued. 

"Unfortunately, Aitn never returned." A groan could be heard from the crowd at this. 

"However, we have checked and double-checked their research, and we believe they have something. It's completely   
novel, something the rest of us never thought of. Instead of searching for a propulsion system, they stumbled across a   
potential solution completely by accident. They discovered a small interaction between gravity wells and the wall. It only   
affects very large masses, and only happens near the wall. Ship-states are large enough to be affected, although only a   
planet or star would feel a non-negligible effect. But as you saw, they found a way to make the effect anything BUT   
negligible. We believe that with some hard work, and the help of the research left to us by Aitn, a ship-state will cross   
the wall and safely return within a year. Welcome to the Greater Galaxy, sentients!"   


==============================   


In later years, after they succeeded, and the inner system war was ended by the influx of imported resources, Nenle sometimes joined the musicians   
when they gathered to sing the songs. She helped them sing the song of Nurol, the young waverunner trapped for long decades in their zone, with no hope   
of return to his native worlds; and the song of the events that day, when they learned of hope.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Flowings

__________________________**8**____________________________   
  
  
  


**Flowings**   
by Anatol Rathbaurer 

**Sector - Unknown**   
**Empire - Unknown**   
**Q-dex - Unknown**   
  


"He didn't respond to his environment at all. When a telepath tried to access patient 1024-B-83's mind, he collapsed dead   
on the ground. Through galacto-genetical analysis we have an idea of where he came from, but even the TFP we queried   
didn't know anything about the location - surprisingly he answered with "No reply.", which means that he was old enough   
to know about the place, but that there was some other problem. So we were forced to try to acquire further information   
by force. Interestingly enough, although his pain-receptors indicated he felt the pain, he did again not seem to notice it. We   
were unable to retain any information about and/or from patient 1024-B-83 by intruding into his mind, the use of torture and   
a TFP. If he is typical of his race, its members would make perfect Vestis Inquisitas." 

**- Excerpt from the report file on "Patient 1024-B-83", who appeared on an Omnet ship without an explanation**   
  


* * * * *   


Lil'Tkuhl~brq* walked on the soft, wet grass below his feet. The wood under his feet gave him a certain security. He looked up into the pink sky   
and saw a few blue clouds drift by. Lifting one of his three hands he screened his eye against the suns to follow a small bird with his gaze. When the   
giant dragon was out of sight, he continued to stroll towards thebridge, sending out ultra-sonic screams to find the way as he did have no eyes. The   
bridge, which was cut out of a single stone, appeared in front of him and Lil'Tkuhl~brq* accelerated his speed as he wanted to get home as quickly   
as possible. He stepped on the wooden planks of the hanging bridge and the countless feet of his insectoid lower body sounded like rain erupting from   
the earth and racing into the sky. Below him the ice-cold water of the river roared past the bridge, and Lil'Tkuhl~brq* picked up a small stone from   
the gravel that was scattered all about the chain-bridge and threw it into the water. Halfway down the stick was swallowed by an eruption of the lava   
flowing below. 

Lil'Tkuhl~brq* stepped on the comforting sand he had walked on for hours again. He had set out from home just to walk around a bit, and now he   
was getting farther away from it with every step he made. He smelled a noise behind him and turned around to look at its source. There he was, thirty   
meters behind him on the bridge: Lil'Tkuhl~brq*, who had just thrown a stone into the water. He stuck his head through his liquid upper body and had   
it come out on top again, facing the direction he was flowing in again. What fun it would be to return home soon, when he was back in Lok'nar, the town   
he had set out to, and from which he had come. It was a Frig*Gkar pilgrimage, a journey without end or beginning. He was still young, almost too young   
for it, many had thought, but now he was underway. His handsome face looked around and spotted a fox in the bushes. Drawing his sword with his right   
hand, he jumped back to defend himself. The fox, which appeared out of nothing to his rear, leaped forward, his maw wide open. The bullet Lil'Tkuhl~brq*'s   
drawn gun ejected hit it on the last moment. 

Suddenly a bright flash of light raced through the blue evening sky, and had it not blinded the fox for a moment to give Lil'Tkuhl~brq* the chance   
to break its neck, the man would have been killed by the beast. "Next time I shouldn't miss again," he mused. Struggling to his feet after the flash of light   
had sent him down onto the ground where he had lain numbly for more than a minute, he saw an object entering Finsdwson's atmosphere in a great ball   
of fire. Lil'Tkuhl~brq* spread his wings to fly over to the crashsite to find a kind of box, which was somehow continually *not* changing its shape, but then   
again, everything seemed normal when it dissolved slowly in the ground. To his right stood Lil'Tkuhl~brq*, and before this other Lil'Tkuhl~brq*'s humanoid   
form melted into that of a bear, he said to his melting counterpart: 

"You're back!" 

"I've never been away," he replied, before his paw struck out to rip Lil'Tkuhl~brq* open, and he fed on him, like bears do. Then he pulled his hat a bit   
deeper into his face and continued to follow the Frig*Gkar path, as humans used to when they were still young.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Ronda Bragghins sat on a small stool in a dark corner of the tiny room. Basically, it was an empty cell, except for the stool she currently sat on and   
the restraining seat in the middle of the room, which was permanently lighted by a lamp in the ceiling. The Vestis Inquisitas had been observing the man   
in the restraining seat for hours. He was a normal human, with brown hair, brown eyes and a nice face. Maybe it would even have been handsome, if the   
eyes weren't red and sore because the man had never closed them since he had been found on the Omnet ship almost two months ago. Now he was lying   
in the seat, eyes wide open, with a somewhat sad expression on his face. He couldn't move an inch, the titanium clamps around his limbs, throat and forehead   
assured that, but Ronda knew that even if they had been removed, the man wouldn't give as much a lifesign as raising a finger. They had already tried that.   
Among other things she had had to do, but didn't want to think of now. The man, patient 1024-B-83, was still a complete mystery. Sometimes the Vestis   
thought that the man was dead already, but when she checked his pulse, he was always well alive. It appeared that he simply didn't know how to react to his surroundings. 

"Vestis Bragghins, report to the bridge!" cracked a metallic voice through the chamber. 

With a sigh Ronda lifted herself from the stool and walked to the security door that sealed the room. Her fingers flew over a numeric pad, and an instant   
later the door opened almost noiselessly. 

The bridge was, like the rest of the destroyer, dark and threatening. Dim lighting assured that you never forgot you were on a military vessel, although   
the energy aboard would have been sufficient enough to increase the lighting until all crewmen were blind from it. A screen opposite of the three lift-doors   
displayed some data in green letters, while a three-dimensional starmap floated in the mid of the room, separated from the area of the bridge crew by a half-   
high railing. Facing the screen were the consoles of the bridge crew, and amid them the Captain's command chair. Right now Captain Jonus was standing in   
front of the data-screen, though. 

As the lift-door closed behind Ronda and five soldiers snapped to attention, the Captain remarked without turning around to her: 

"Ah, Vestis Inquisitas Bragghins! We should arrive at the Quantum Front any minute now, and I   
thought you should be present when we cross it. After all, this is your brainchild, isn't it?" 

"This is the "brainchild", as you call it, of the Vestis Inquisitas. I am merely carrying out the mission." 

When the Vestis noticed her harsh tone, she added: "Of course you could say it was me who drew the Vestis's attention towards it." 

The First Officer, who had approached Ronda from beside, smiled at her and nodded in approval of the polite turn she had given her words. Suddenly   
a siren howled three times, and an officer announced: "Quantum Front detected in three hundred kilometers distance." 

"Excellent!" exclaimed the Captain. He stepped back and faced his crew, while he fingered at his mustache with his left hand. 

"Ready all redundant drives to take over upon crossing! Raise shields, power to maximum! Activate weapons banks!" 

Ronda Bragghins had frowned upon that last order, but it was the Captain's ship, and she had no word in how he ran it. 

"Would you like to give the command that may change the history of Omnet's struggle for complete control of the galactic knowledge?" 

It took Ronda a while before she realized she was meant, and even then she only reluctantly said: 

"Go ahead!" 

In fact she was far too pre-occupied by her thoughts about what they were about to encounter. Entering a new, unexplored Q-Zone was always   
risky, and the stoic man who was locked away in the ship's innards was no help either. She had strange feelings about the prisoner, and much alike   
she had strange feelings about this Q-Zone. By all means the man Omnet had discovered lying on a floor *inside* one of their ships was healthy and   
sane, but his autistic attitude belied that. It was simply inexplicable. 

The Captain was smiling confidently while he was watching his officers preparing the crossing. The Omnet destroyer was a mighty ship, and it would   
be able to cope with virtually anything that would be on the other side. Its drives were able to propel the ship throughout the known universe, and its   
armament was impressive. Even if it encountered hostile aliens, the destroyer would be able to escape unharmed due to its extra-inforced shields. Indeed,   
the Captain was very proud of his fine vessel. 

"About to enter Quantum Front... no readings from the other side... all systems normal...   
Quantum Weather inconspicuous..." the various officers reported. 

Then the ship rocked violently and the lights flickered for a moment. They were crossing the Front. For a while, there was nothing. Then there was chaos. 

"Exiting front... Captain, we're directly inside a star system!" 

"Sir, energy dropping!" 

"Sensor readings down!" 

Ronda felt strange, as if she didn't belong here. The feeling got worse, and she began to feel sick and swindly. She didn't belong here. It was wrong...   
panic struck her, and she became hysterical when she sensed the ship was not the ship anymore. An officer cried out aloud: 

"The star system... impossible... it's... no... hehe..." then he broke out into a maniacal, cackling laughter. "Pool balls... it's only pool balls..." he repeated,   
while he tried to read a screen that wasn't really there anymore. It should have been, and it was, but somehow everyone, including the officer, felt it wasn't   
there anymore. As if it had flown away. 

The Captain fell to his knees and clenched his head with his hands. They belonged to a stranger. The floor beneath him wasn't metal anymore. His   
senses broke down. He screamed in his low, reverberating voice. The high-pitched scream pulled Ronda away from the image of the chuckling, crying   
officer, who, for some reason, now really held a pool ball in his hands. The high-pitched scream? The Vestis stumbled towards the lift, she just wanted to   
get off the bridge, as her senses weren't able anymore to process the contradictory information. The lift-doors opened (Doors? There had been only one?)   
and she threw herself into the lift, and at least the pain that erupted in her head when she forgot to catch herself told her she was still alive. Ronda pushed   
the round button of Deck 4. The corner of the button stung into the sensitive skin of her finger, and she lurched back from the sensation that shouldn't -   
couldn't - be. Deck 4. That was were she needed to go. To the man in the restraining seat. 

She exited the lift when it halted and ran into a gangway she recognized, but didn't know where from. The rubble on the floor irritated her. A wooden   
door stopped her, and as soon as she had opened it, she knew she was wrong: this was the engineering, not Deck 4. Turning around she tumbled back into   
the gangway, but this time she seemed to be on the right way, although this still had to be Deck 6 instead of 4. Underway she met a crewman who cowered   
in a corner and tried to nestle his beltcase open, where his weapon was. Finally he managed to rip it open and produced his gun. The man looked almost   
happily into the nozzle of the blaster and pulled the trigger. Blazing energy consumed his head. For a brief moment Ronda considered doing the same, but   
something urged her to go on and look for the man. After a few steps, or some hundred meters, she couldn't tell anymore, Ronda reached the prisoner's   
room. The doors swished open immediately and she fell onto her knees on the floor inside. 

The man was there, sitting in a comfortable ear-chair and smiling at her. His eyes were sore, but filled with life, and he smiled. On the opposite side of   
the room was a second door, and someone lay there, apparently dead. Ronda touched her breast as if to support her breathing and looked at the former   
prisoner in awe. He was alive again. The restraining seat was gone. And he smiled... he looked happy. The light above him went out. Suddenly the ground   
below her seemed to lurch again, felt soft and hard at the same time, and Ronda wasn't at home in her body anymore. She clenched her head with both   
hands and screamed in pain. The last thing she saw before she passed over into the afterlife was herself coming through the door on the other side of the   
room, falling down.   
  


* * * * *   
  


He was home. The flow of life, the flow of constant change was there again. The nightmare-world that had held him prisoner within his own mind,   
caught in a constant state of immobility and depression, had gone away. Slowly and carefully he stepped out of the wreckage that was the last remainder   
of his cage beyond the barrier. Flapping sounds made him aware of the being that approached him rapidly. Lil'Tkuhl~brq* landed to his left and looked   
at the cage, which was dissolving already. He looked at Lil'Tkuhl~brq* and recognized his own face. Lil'Tkuhl~brq*, who had just emerged from the   
wreckage, savored in the feeling of dissolving into another form. Lil'Tkuhl~brq* threw him a startled look and said: 

"You're back!" 

"I've never been away," replied Lil'Tkuhl~brq* and struck out with his paw to rip Lil'Tkuhl~brq* open, as he was hungry and had to gather strength   
for the remainder of his Frig*Gkar pilgrimage.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Noontime Dark

__________________________**9**____________________________   
  


**Noontime Dark**   
by Chris Corliss   


**Sector G**   
**Mathetae Alethia**   


The small team slowly moved over the terrain, scouting it out while encircling their target. When the team was thirty tracks from their target the   
team leader gave the command to turn on the benders on their suits. Soon the members of the team faded away from sight, the only indication of their   
existence was their footsteps. 

The team surrounded their target, a young man in his twenties. He stood upright in the open land, heedless of the sun beating down on him. He wore   
black pants with a short sleeve gray shirt tucked into them. A black snake skin belt with a silver buckle wrapped itself around his pants, as if remembering   
the days when it was alive. His black shoes were slightly dirty and dusty, perhaps from walking to this location. The target ran his fingers through his short   
dark brown hair as he scanned the horizon from behind his green sunglasses. 

He stopped suddenly as he spotted a small dust cloud rise into the air a short distance from him. A smile crept over his face. 

"First Mate Loren Sharpel, how good to see you again. I was starting to get worried that you would not make it." 

Slowly the air in front of the man shimmered and soon another man appeared in that spot. He was wearing a suit that had various circuitry running   
over it which pulsed slightly with energy. In his hands he held a rifle aimed at the man's heart. 

"Who are you?" came a metallic voice from the now visible man. 

The man wearing the green glasses slightly cocked his head to the side. Underneath his breath he spoke a word of activation. He looked again at the   
man holding the rifle, his eye glasses displaying information on the inside of the lens about the man. 

*This is not who I thought it was.* 

"I am a simple servant," replied the man wearing the green glasses. 

"I want name, DOB, employer, and how you got to this planet!" the metallic voice rang out again. 

"Name? What is a name but some tag you associate with a life form. As for DOB, what does it matter?   
Should I say I am a hundred or ten? It is worthless data. As for employer, well, if I told you, you would   
not believe it. That is why I will show you." 

With this the man wearing the green sunglasses smiled and pointed behind the man. 

The man remained still but the other members in his team, still invisible, looked around and realized that they were surrounded. Behind them stood   
beings that stood like men but were lions in appearance. Golden fur covered their bodies with large manes crowning their heads in dark brown colors.   
Emerald cat eyes looked out from underneath bushy eye brows. They had hands the size of a man's face with fingers and an opposable thumb ending   
in retractable claws. Light brown clothing covered their torsos, providing protection from the sun and also camouflaging them. In their hands were long   
metallic spears covered in shifting patterns of black lines and circles that intertwine with each other. The spears were pointed at the heads of the members   
of the team. 

One of the invisible men became visible as he turned off his bender. The lion-man behind him remained motionless but ready to strike. The man stood   
for a few seconds until his helmet visor turned clear, revealing a clean shaven man. The man wearing the green sunglasses smiled once again and turned   
his attention to the second man. 

"I take it your journey has a been a good one, First Mate?" 

The second man sighed and then shook his head. Slowly moving his hands from his side he reached up and pulled his helmet off. His face remained   
straight but inside thoughts were racing around his mind wildly. The last time Loren saw this man was about a year ago. At that chance meeting the man   
told him that he would become a first mate in the space navy. Not only that but he also deposited a large amount of money into his account with the   
promise of more if he would finish an assignment for him. Loren tried to grab the man at that time but he simply disappeared. Now on a remote planet,   
in a different system, this same man stood before him. The only question is how, and what was this assignment he had for him. 

"It has been a journey," Loren said in a terse tone. 

"Good to hear that. As you can see, I have kept my end of the bargain. And I can only assume that your presence   
here is an acknowledgment that you are going to keep your end." 

"Yes." 

"Good! Shall we get down to business?" 

"I want answers to my questions first!" Loren exploded with anger and confusion written on his face. 

"Well! I see your temper has not left you. Fire away then, what are your questions?" 

"Who... what... are these things behind me?" 

One of the lion-men stepped forward. Though dressed very similar to the other ones, this one also had a pair of arm bands that had the same   
type of black lines and circles covering them like the spears. The other distinguishing feature was that his mane was pulled back through a single   
silver ring. 

"We are Mathetae, rulers of this planet." 

Loren thought for a few seconds before continuing. 

"So, tell me Mathetae, why should I be scared of you and your spear wielding friends?" 

The Mathetae that stepped forward growled deeply. 

"Fear us because we are stronger." 

With this said the Mathetae quickly swung his spear around and pointed it at the other man that was visible. Next thing the humans saw was a blue   
lightning bolt streak from the end of the spear towards the man and upon impact, incinerate him. The smell of ozone filled the air along with a brief hint   
of burnt flesh. The man with the green glasses simply smiled at Loren. 

"Did I mention that they can be short on patience?" 

Loren was stunned into silence. 

"Any more questions? No. Did not think so. So, on to business. You have been brought here for a reason.   
Your mission is to get...." 

Without warning the area started to get darker by the second. Everyone looked up to see a clear sky. 

"What is going on?" Loren asked to no one in general. 

A faint voice came through the First Mate's ear piece, 

"Sir, it seems that the planets in this system are beginning to align themselves. The area you are in happens to   
be the penumbra of a solar eclipse." 

An unnatural darkness came swiftly upon the still air of the day. Everyone stood in silence, uncertain of what was happening and what was going   
to happen. The only visible thing in the heavy, oppressive, darkness was the glow of the display on the forearm of Loren's suit. Slowly that too began   
to dim until it went dark. That meant only one thing. His suit's power generator was dead. Nothing could be seen and the only sound was that of people   
breathing in unison. 

"It is an omen," one of the Mathetae stated in a low growl. 

Another one mumbled under his breath, "Interesting..." 

Loren started to slowly shift his hand to the weapon on his side. Now was the time to strike and take control of the situation. If there was one thing he   
did not like was not being in control. 

He could only hope that his team members were having the same idea as he was having right now...   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. New Leadership

  
__________________________**10**____________________________   
  


**New Leadership**   
by Frank Vittoe   


**Sector H**   
**Spider Queen Theocracy**   
**Arach'Tuine**   
  


Rowen Arachnia, the eldest daughter of Phaere Arachnia had plans. She was going to become the most powerful woman in the entire Spider Queen   
Theocracy. And now was the time to enact those plans. Her mother was preoccupied with the upcoming attack on Dra'Keshi space. Phaere Arachnia was   
spending almost all her time in her private office sending communiqués back and forth to all the Matrons of the Noble Houses. The plans for the attack were   
taking up so much time that Phaere had little time for the mundane matters of running a Noble House. That was just the way Rowen wanted it. 

If Phaere Arachnia was known as the Voice of The Spider Queen, her daughter Rowen could be called the Spider Queen's Fang. The Warrior/Preistess   
was vicious, cruel, sadistic, and slightly psychotic. She was also, like every other Dr'owe, power~hungry, though up till now, she had enjoyed her position   
as Phaere's eldest daughter. But now she wanted more. There was but one obstacle to her rise to the position of First Matron. That obstacle was Phaere   
Arachnia's Arach'Nilith. 

At the present moment, the Arach'Nilith was standing outside of Phaere's office, guarding against any intrusions. But Rowen had a plan. She would kill   
the monster. And she had the perfect idea. 

Down the hall, cloaked in the shadows, and completely silent, Rowen spoke to two males in the intricate Dr'owe hand code. 

"You know what you have to do, correct?" 

"Yes, mistress ...distract the Arach'Nilith so you can kill it. We pretend to fight, the Arach'Nilith comes,   
we attack it, you jump in, kill it, and we run. Then you kill the Matron, and take her place, and we become   
the leaders of the Xin'Arachnia. A wonderful plan," one of the males replied. 

"Very good. Then go to it. Your reward will be waiting for you." 

Rowen produced an insignia which denoted leadership of the Xin'Arachnia, House Arachnia's finest warriors. As the two males left, Rowen sneered. 

*Idiots,*" she thought to herself. *That Arach'Nilith will kill them both.* 

The two males approached and jostled each other. 

"You idiot! Watch where your going! I'll kill you for that!" 

The males drew their weapons and began fighting. It was a credible performance. If Rowen didn't know better, she would have assumed the two   
were really fighting. Their swords rang off of each other with the musical clash of Black~Steel. The Arach'Nilith heard, and slowly walked toward the   
sound. When the monster rounded the bend in the shadowy corridor, she saw the two males, and snarled. 

"What in the Name of The Spider Queen are you doing?" 

The two males looked up. Their faces showed real astonishment. The Arach'Nilith was the most gorgeous, beautiful female Dr'owe they had ever seen,   
shimmering obsidian colored skin, hair that was so silver it seemed to capture every color, eyes a bright, luminescent red, nude from the waist up. 

From the waist down was a different matter entirely. A gigantic spider's body, eight legs tipped in sharp claws, and an red hourglass shaped mark was   
on it's underside. The two males squared off threateningly. The Arach'Nilith just laughed. 

The two males attacked. The Arach'Nilith easily parried their strikes with it's twin Black~Steel longswords. Then it reared up and ran one of it's forelegs   
into each Dr'owe. The males screamed in pain, wondering where Rowen was. Their blood pooled on the ground. Their bodies shook with their death throes.   
Then the Arach'Nilith dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. 

"A nice little snack you two will make," the monster said. 

That was when it felt the dagger in it's back. 

"Only if you live to eat them, Arach'Nilith!" Rowen exclaimed. 

The Arach'Nilith yelled more in annoyance than pain and turned. 

"You think you can defeat me, Spider Queen Priestess? You are not your mother. She could, but you won't!" 

The Arach'Nilith pulled the dagger out of its back and dropped in on the ground. Rowen drew her sword, Soul Reaver, and took up a fighter's stance,   
whispering an arcane phrase to activate the powers of her magical weapons. The Arach'Nilith took advantage of the moment, moving in, it's twin blades   
weaving an intricate dance of death, striking impossibly fast. Rowen was able to counter every strike in an equally amazing display of swordsmanship. But   
that was part of the power of Rowen's blade. Soul Reaver granted it's user extremely fast reflexes and blinding speed. The blades of the two fighters clashed   
against each other so fast that the noise became one indistinguishable ring. Finally, though, Rowen made a mistake. 

One of the Arach'Nilith's blades slipped through her defense, gashing her on her swordarm. Rowen enacted a spell and vanished, only to appear out of   
reach of the monster's weapons. 

"You can't escape, little dr'owe!" the Arach'Nilith yelled. 

Rowen simply said, "Die!" The dagger she had hurled at the Arach'Nilith rose up off the floor where it lay, and flew point first at the Arach'Nilith.   
Rowen put both hands on her sword's hilt, and held the blade in front of her. Her dagger, which was called Soul Slicer, dove through the Arach'Nilith's   
skull. A shadowy, misty image of the Arach'Nilith flowed and coalesced from the dagger's hilt. The misty form dove at Rowen, but when it met the cutting   
edge of her blade, it evaporated. Soul Reaver and Soul Slicer were twin weapons, forged just after the Great Cataclysm. 

"Strike from the shadows with the slicer, then the wielder's blood is drawn. The Slicer cuts the soul from body,   
the Reaver will destroy." 

Rowen had taken the sword and dagger from a dr'owe that belonged to House Samoven, the House that was destroyed for "treachery and betrayal of   
The Council of Eight". The weapons served her now in good stead . 

Rowen smiled. She did it. She was one of the few Dr'owe in history to actually destroy an Arach'Nilith. Now she had a more difficult task ahead of her.   
She had to kill the First Matron of The Spider Queen Theocracy. Her mother, Phaere Arachnia. 

Rowen knew that her mother didn't hear any of the fighting that had gone on. The office of the First Matron was behind a thick stone door and walls   
which blocked almost all outside noise. She was almost ready. She had but one more preparation to make. She reached into a small pouch on her belt and   
took out a ring. It was one she had purchased at the Bain're Bazaar earlier. The ring was a gateway to an extra-dimensional pocket. It could be used to store   
items for the wearer. The "items" Rowen would store would be two dead male Dr'owe. She whispered the command word and the dead Dr'owe shimmered   
out of existence. Rowen's ring glowed slightly. She smiled again. 

She didn't even bother to knock, she just opened Phaere's office door and walked in. 

Phaere looked up. 

"Rowen! This had better be good. I am busy. The fleet has to deployed for maximum effect." 

"Oh, this is good, mother. At least I think so." Rowen closed the door. "You probably won't, but you will be dead." 

"Oh please." 

Phaere pointed at her daughter, and her garment of live spiders swarmed off of her and crawled toward Rowen. 

"Hold!" 

At Rowen's command, the swarm of spiders stopped. 

"Mother, I may not be able to make them harm you, but they won't harm me either." 

Phaere then gripped her hand crossbow, Venom, and shot a bolt at Rowen. The Warrior/ Priestess dodged out of the way. Phaere took advantage of   
the distraction. 

"Arach'vel, nintak loom!" 

Webbing shot from the First Matron's fingertips and pinned Rowen to the floor. But Rowen was nothing if not resourceful. She cast the same spell she   
used against the Arach'Nilith, vanishing out of the webs and reappearing behind her mother. She hurled Soul Slicer with deadly accuracy, slicing into her   
mother's shoulder. Phaere screamed with pain and anger, and turned to face her daughter. 

"You are going to pay, dear daughter. I will rip the skin from your muscles and sprinkle you with salt.   
You will feel great pain before I sacrifice you to the Spider Queen." 

Phaere then used a combination of psionics and clerical magic to pin Rowen against the wall, immobilizing her. Rowen snarled, angry at this turn of events.   
She hadn't come this far only to die. She said a silent prayer to The Spider Queen, channeling the power of the Dr'owe goddess. Phaere's hold was broken,   
and Rowen fell to the floor. She rolled, only to find the First Matron standing over her, a knife poised to strike. Rowen, her reflexes enhanced by Soul Reaver,   
was quicker. She rammed her blade into Phaere's stomach, up to the hilt. The blood of the First Matron ran over her hand, and formed a pool on the floor. 

Phaere gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. How could this happen? She was the most powerful Dr'owe in the entire Spider Queen Theocracy. This   
was impossible. 

"Ro... Rowen...You may...... win this day..... b b but I will not be defea... defeated so... easily!   
You...you will... pay for this treachery! Mark my words, daughter, YOU WILL PAY!" 

Phaere's body slumped against the hilt of Rowen's sword, and Rowen lifted her foot and kicked the limp form of the dead Dr'owe female off the blade,   
and let the body fall to the ground. 

"Somehow, 'dear' mother, I doubt that!" 

Rowen smiled. She had succeeded. Phaere Arachnia was dead. She was First Matron. 

Not one to waste time, Rowen spent only a moment savoring her victory. She used her ring to pull the two dead male Dr'owe from the extra-dimensional   
pocket, and arranged the scene to appear as if she had been wounded defending her mother. She then walked over to Phaere's desk and turned on the communications system. 

"Help! They've killed the Matron! They've killed my mother! Help! Send the Xin'Arachnia!" 

Barely seconds later five Xin'Arachnia warriors appeared running through the door of the office. 

"What happened, Mistress Rowen?" their leader, a lieutenant, gasped, winded from the run through the compound's corridors. 

"I walked in to speak to my mother, and found her fighting these two" Rowen indicated the dead males. 

"She looked at me and said call for help. They stabbed her when she looked away from them. I got angry, and I killed them." 

Tears flowed from Rowen's eyes, though every Dr'owe knew that Rowen Arachnia had little real emotions, and anything resembling love was not   
among them. 

"I see" the lieutenant said. He thought for a moment. He was Dr'owe after all, and knew exactly what had happened. It happened almost exactly the   
same way when Phaere Arachnia had become First Matron. Then he and his fellows knelt before her. 

"Reign long, Rowen Arachnia, Matron of House Arachnia. The Xin'Arachnia serve you, and only you." 

The Xin'Arachnia waited a moment to see if the new Matron had any orders for them, and then left. 

Rowen just laughed.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Cycling days

__________________________**11**____________________________   


**Cycling days**   
by Esteban Jauregui Lorda   
  


**Sector H**   
**Selesthain Empire**   
**Planet Brisa**   
  


A swarm of air-wagons obscured the morning sun for a few seconds, like an unnatural cloud. The old shuraki ran his fingers through the green,   
wet grass, and changed his legs' position below his old, fragile body. Now a little more comfortable, he lifted his gaze and guessed the border, the line   
where Brisa's over-platform ended and the many kilometers fall to the planet's surface took place. 

He remembered his days as a youngling, when he and his friends ran near the border, and wondered if the platform would ever fall. He especially   
remembered the view... lush greens and bright blues, the wind spiraling from the bottom of the platform and caressing their still soft barks... good, old days. 

But it was time. 

"There's no exact way, there's no ideal knowledge," preached the Ast'stari from the center of the small garden to the dozen shuraki before him.   
The old shuraki smiled faintly at the thought, at the idea of knowledge. Ages after it, and they never seemed to advance. Perhaps now, with all these new   
contacts, this new Galaxy opening like a blossoming flower, for them... perhaps, it was time. 

Birth, Growth, Learning, Death. He murmured the syllables as his fingers, still greenish from the grass, made their path along the carved surface of   
the ruin that once was his home. His home, only seventy years ago. Of course they were regrowing it, and it had surely sheltered a family after him, but   
still the carvings endured, red on dark brown under the mid-day sun. 

Not far a female shuraki moved, obviously hurried but yet not running. She carried a package of clothes and some medicine bugs. His eyes followed   
her to the door she walked in, and his imagination saw the amazed eyes of the newborn inside. Birth, he smiled. He looked all around. Growth, he thought.   
The majestic Embassies of the ambassadorial sector could be seen from where he stood, strange and familiar at the same time. Learning, he recognized. His   
own shadow graced the soft ground. Death, and it was about time. 

He ran home, excited, his legs feeling the strain. He only stopped when he reached the door steps, smiling like when he climbed over the border, like when   
he first saw her, like when he was born. He entered his home, and sat down on his favorite seat. Warm hands, familiar hands, touched his own, caressing his bark.   
He smiled, his eyes went dark under the light of a dying sun. 

Death. It was time.   
  
  


Notes: The Shuraki is a race of arboreal humanoids native to the Selesthian Empire. Calm, peace-loving and always devote to the Tree, they revere the   
life cycle as supreme and recognize their most driving feeling to be the search of knowledge. 

Brisa is the capital of Selesth, their homeworld. They inhabit large hover-platforms suspended high over the planet's surface, in order not to disturb   
the native ecosystem. Their technology is biological, based on biomanipulating species to perform different deeds, from supplying power to growing   
homes, or clothes.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. The Crossing Guard

__________________________**12**____________________________   
  


**The Crossing Guard**   
by Lowell Boston   
  


**Sector H**   
**August Empire of Archaen**   
**2nd World Resso's Question**   
  
  


**The Old Vicky**

It was a clear kite flier's day. 

The sky was a cool, deep blue that rested over the dusty, terra-cotta roofs of the town, and the amber brushed dunes beyond, stretching endlessly   
to the Sandy Mountains. To a child, that long expanse of blue would fall just short of forever. And if that same child were to turn, just on the outskirts   
of the town, he would catch the heavens reflected in the Provincial reservoir, Resso's Pond. 

By definition, the title of 'Pond' was woefully exceeded by the ten mile body of water, but every year the Selectmen of Fallon decided to keep the   
name simply for nostalgia's sake. Outlying towns like Fallon weren't apt to change, and would always fight it tooth and nail. 

Arthur Tyson brushed the dust off of his Crossing Guard's sash with care. He blinked his eyes in the direction of the morning light and hefted his   
'STOP' sign. Across the sandy intersection a hovering vehicle stopped. He turned to the right and gave the go ahead for the gathering school children.   
Many of them waved and smiled as they passed by on foot and aero-scooters. Some of their grandfathers had served with him, and a few of their   
fathers had even been his students. Arthur returned their smiles. When the last had crossed he lowered the sign and okayed the waiting vehicle to move. 

Gravity coils thrusted to life, kicking up a cloud of dust and gravel. The vehicle, an old Victoria, accelerated across the intersection at twice the town's   
ordinance. Arthur covered his face against the oncoming cloud, but not enough so that he couldn't see. At first he thought it was Tom Lopitk's old Vicky,   
but Tom was dead and it was thought that his old hauler had been lost years ago in a sandstorm way up in the High Desert. 

Dirty faces were behind the dirty windows, but he could see the driver. He wore smoke colored glasses under a fielder's cap. The man's head turned   
toward Arthur, and as he passed he crossed his fingers and shoved them in his direction. It was an Archaic obscene gesture that literally meant 'Get bent!'.   
Arthur, putting on his best 'dumb gaffer' look, smiled back, but his eyes were cool and observant. They took in the driver's bloodstained nails, and the   
callouses on his index finger - shooting callouses. His hair was hidden under his fielder's cap, but his eyebrows, just visible above his glasses, were a dead   
giveaway. They were jet black. No one who had been on the Question for any length of time had black hair. The sun made sure of that. The man was a   
foreigner. It was the last item Arthur spotted that got his thoughts racing. 

An obsidian signet ring - Red Klan insignia. 

The Vicky shot by, and Arthur continued to watch, his suspicion rising. There were many Red Klan pockets on 2nd World Resso's Question. That   
was undisputably true on many of the 2nd Worlds of the Empire, but few Red Klanners ever came to Fallon. Were they seeking work? As far as he   
knew the nano factory wasn't hiring, and if it was, work call had been two full cycles ago. Their presence in Fallon was venturing into that category   
he commonly called 'Other'. If the driver was a Professional, then Arthur had to believe that the signet ring was meant to be seen. Did he know who   
he was? Was he calling him out? The retired assassin rested his full weight on his cane and began to think. 

"Grandpa?" 

Arthur turned and smiled at his Granddaughter Kelly. She was dressed in her school uniform, complete with her own Crossing Guard sash. 

"Sorry dear, I was wool gathering." 

Kelly crossed her arms and pouted, an expression that reminded him of her father. 

"Grandpa, you never wool gather." 

She tracked his gaze down the road to the Victoria. 

"Strangers in town," she said in a stern voice so like his own that Arthur had to laugh in spite of himself. 

"They're probably just passing through, dear. Come on, we have work to do." 

His hand rested on her shoulder and turned her back to the intersection of Rose and 4th. His eyes were forward, but his ears continued to track the   
Old Vicky. The hauler raced down the street, then suddenly stopped. His ears caught the change in engine pitch, even more as the gravity conveyor   
began to slowly and evenly back up. 

Arthur waved on Akhim's feed truck, undoubtedly on its way to the Reedmont Ranch, before he turned around and saw the reason for the vehicle's   
reversal. Caitlyn Lane and her two schoolmates were strolling down the avenue walkway. They were dressed in their prep school uniforms. Arthur didn't   
know whether the uniform skirts were getting shorter each year, or Caitlyn's thighs longer. Whatever the cause, it was enough to stop traffic andget his   
heart racing. 

*Looks like I'm gettin' an eye for the thigh,* he chided himself, wondering if being a 'dirty old man' was a genetic inevitable, or just a downside of   
being retired. 

The Vicky backed up past Caitlyn and her friends, and stopped. A man got out on the passenger side. Not the driver, he noted, but someone big, and   
by the looks of him, a native Quizzer. His hair was a sun bleached sandy brown with leathery, suntanned skin on his neck, forearms and hands. His long   
overcoat had been poorly re-sewn where it had ripped, but it was what it was possibly concealing that had Arthur more concerned. The man stood on the   
walkway several paces in front of Cait and her friends. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a hand rolled cigarette. Lit it. 

"Kelly," said Arthur, his eyes never leaving the man. 

"Yes, Grandpa?" 

"Take over for a spell." He passed her his small 'STOP' sign, and ambled down the street on his cane. 

To a casual observer Arthur Tyson looked like a well kept man in his mid-fifties with pepper gray hair at his temples. He had an athletic build and a set   
of toned arm muscles most men any age would envy. In reality he was seventy-two, (with a Mindage of one hundred and eighty) and in perfect physical   
shape, earned from years of fencing, swimming, and rowing, among other 'activities'. His lame leg slowed him down, and he had to admit his reflexes were   
a far cry from what they used to be, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. 

The man was now about a hundred feet away, well out of earshot, but Arthur gathered he had already spoken to the girls. Caitlyn and her friends had   
stopped. Her eyes were wide with admiration, and a slight bit of fear. The big man stepped closer, threw his cigarette in the gutter and hooked his head in   
the direction of the Victoria. 

Caitlyn's face turned pale white. 

*Welcome to the real world, Cait. You just got propositioned,* thought Arthur. 

Caitlyn began to back up. Her head emphatically shaking back and forth. Her friends scooted back a good ten feet, seemingly ready to run at the next   
sign of trouble. 

Trouble came. The man moved to her side as quick as a lash. He was fast. One hand hooked around her trim waist, the other stretched out once more in   
the direction of the Vicky. Caitlyn resisted. Tears came to her eyes as she hugged her book to her chest for protection. Arthur was closer now, close enough   
to see more men in the old hauler. Close enough to see that they hadn't seen him - yet - and for that he was thankful. He moved in and could finally hear the   
man speaking. 

"Come on, be a good birdie. We'll even make it worth your while." 

His sunburned hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a palomac. The ring coin hung on his index finger like a dirty washer. 

"Appreciate it if you'd let Miss Lane and her friends get to school, friend," said Arthur. 

The man froze. Arthur had gotten the drop on him. He turned around slowly. His face was young and tough. Hard, with a deep, flaking tan and a scruffy   
five o'clock shadow. A scar ran across his top lip and faded past his left nostril, and his eyes were watery and yellow from a bad case of sun-eye. He looked   
Arthur over, literally moving his head up and down, then grinned. 

"Or what, old coot?" 

Arthur pleasantly smiled back and rested both his hands on his steel tipped cane. 

"Now friend, I don't think either one of us wants to find out what 'Or what' is... do we?" 

Arthur and the man locked eyes. Arthur's face was back to his best old gaffer's look, but there was something in his stare, something the man didn't like. 

"Piss off, ya old goat. Miss ...", he looked back at Caitlyn with a lecherous smirk, "...Lane and I have ourselves a date. Ain't dat right?" 

Before Caitlyn could respond the man cupped her face with both his hands and turned her towards him. His flaked, bleached lips parted, showing dirty   
teeth with spaces between them. Their lips touched. 

Arthur lifted his cane with an index finger and thumb and lanced it forward, striking the man behind the knee along a cluster of nerve bundles. The man's   
leg jerked out in an involuntary kick, yanking him off his feet for one full second before his skull struck the cobblestone pavement with a loud, sickening crack   
that could be heard up and down the avenue. To any bystander it looked as if Arthur had simply knocked him down with a poke of his cane. 

The man clutched his leg in a fetal position, his eyes wide with tearing pain. 

"My leg! Damnit, whaddaya do ta my leg?!" 

Arthur stood over the man and ignored his cries. 

"Cait, you all right?" he asked. She didn't answer, and he allowed himself a quick look. Her lips were trembling. 

"Caitlyn!" 

Her eyes blinked several times before she looked and found him. 

"Yes...yes Mr. Tyson. I'm... I'm fine, thank you." 

"All right then, run home, child. You and your friends." 

The young Senior didn't need to be told twice. She turned and bolted down the avenue with her schoolmates. 

The doors to the Victoria opened behind him. Hard boots on gravel, foot steps moving his way. They stopped, followed by the sound of an overcoat   
being thrown aside. Arthur looked back down at the fallen man, his back still to his new, unseen enemy. 

"Tell your friend back there he'd best stop whatever he's planning. We're that much closer to 'Or what'." 

Arthur's face no longer held his old gaffer look. It was hard, serious and professional. 

The man on the ground realized now that he was looking at the real Arthur Tyson, retired Imperial Assassin-Guardian. 

"He's... he's crazy! Tommy, shoot the bastard!" screamed the fallen man. 

Arthur turned to face Tommy. He was about the same size as his friend, only with a chubbier frame and a face with unwashed jowls undoubtedly built   
by cheap graf and fatty foods. 

"Now Tommy, do I look crazy? Hell, I haven't even lost my temper... yet."   
The 'Sin-Guardian let the word hang in the air until he could see Tommy had absorbed it, and was bitten by its meaning. 

"But... it'd be only fair to warn you NOT to do whatever you're planning." 

Tommy looked Arthur dead in the eye. His lips quivered. His right hand hovered near his right thigh where a high caliber wounder pistol was holstered. 

"Last warning, Tommy." said Arthur calmly. 

Tommy drew. A quick move, fluid and relaxed. In an eighth of a second the business end of his pistol was leveled at Arthur's heart. 

Whack-Crack! 

Tommy's gun was jerked from his hand. He howled in pain and fell to one knee, clutching his swollen trigger finger. In the street, fifty feet behind him,   
stood Kelly. Sling shot in hand, bands drawn back. Her dark eyes were serious. Her left cheek bulged with a lumpy mass. Clenched between her teeth was   
a single agate marble. In the sling of her weapon was another. Tommy turned to face her. His jaw dropped open in incredulous disbelief, followed by a quick   
burning anger. 

"You little sh..." He reached for his pistol, four feet away. 

Whack-Crack! 

The gun was knocked six feet away before Tommy could reach it. Kelly dropped another marble into the sling and drew aim all in half a heart beat.   
She arched an eyebrow. 

"Kelly, quite fooling around. If he moves again, put the next shot through his eye." 

"Yes, grandpa." 

Tommy's jaw dropped open again. A single drop of spittle hung from his lip. 

He didn't like what he saw in the little girl's eyes. Years ago, he had once seen the same thing in the eyes of a 'Sin-Guardian who had been jumped by   
six Red Klan members. Four of them had never walked again. The other two never got up. He saw a little of that in the girl whose sling shot was aimed   
for his left eye socket. 

Arthur turned back to the fallen man. One hand gingerly held the back of his knee, while the other was palm flat on the ground, bracing his weight.   
Arthur lifted his cane and lowed the tip onto the middle finger of the man's bracing hand, just above the base of his first knuckle. He pushed down and   
the man wailed in pain. 

"On yer feet!" sneered the former assassin. "Nothing fancy or I'll snap your finger in two." 

The man nodded repeatedly. Placing both his feet under him he stood in an awkward squat with his right hand pinned to the ground. 

"Chin up, please," ordered Arthur. 

The man obeyed as his forehead beaded with sweat. Quickly, Arthur switched the tip of his cane from the man's hand to the soft skin of his neck just   
above the adam's apple, and leaned on it. 

"Now stand, nice and slow, arms wide out." 

He did so. Up and down the avenue shopkeepers stood in their doorways. Some held scatter guns and wounder rifles. 

"Let's see what ya got under the coat... slowly now, pinkies only." 

The man parted the flaps of his jacket with his smallest fingers. Tyson saw the gun holstered on his right leg. His face was cool, but his heart skipped   
a beat. It was a Torpedo Blaster. Imperial Marine issue, well oiled, without a scratch. The weapon was illegal for civilians to own. 

"Fancy," said the Crossing Guard. "Unbuckle it, and drop the iron." 

For the first time the man's face registered a look of protest. He looked over Arthur's shoulder in the direction of the Victoria. 

"Before any help comes for you, friend, I'll lance this stick down your throat. Now drop the gun!" 

The man did so as his face mixed undisguised humiliation and rage. Arthur twisted the cane's steel tip just to show him who was boss. 

"Tommy! Doak! Get back in the hauler. We're leaving!" 

The voice came from the open door of the Victoria, and Arthur's head nearly jerked in its direction. The interior was dark, but the old 'Sin-Guardian   
didn't need to see the owner to know who it came from. It was the driver. He stepped back from the man named Doak and lowered his cane. The thug   
sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his throat. Arthur spoke without looking over his shoulder. 

Kelly... it's all right. You can let him go." 

Kelly lowered her aim slightly, but still held her bands drawn tight. Tommy rose to his feet, still clutching his swollen finger. He looked at his gun,   
then back to Kelly. Her eyebrows rose, and her eyes twinkled as if saying 'try it!'. 

He didn't. Instead he walked back over to the gravity hauler and with one last look back at Tyson's granddaughter, climbed in. 

Doak was slower in leaving. He hobbled past Arthur, never turning his back to the former assassin. When he reached the Victoria he finally found   
the courage to speak. 

"This isn't over, old man. Not by a long shot. You'll get what's coming to ya... see if I'm wrong!" 

Doak went in and the door closed behind him. Gravity coils flared to life, raising the Vicky a full meter off the ground. It vectored off the curve and   
sped out of town with a noise like a strong wind. 

Kelly came to her grandfather's side. She was holding Tommy's gun, safely, as her father had shown her for most firearms. She looked up at her   
Grandfather, and this time her eyes had her mother's strength and concern. 

"Grandpa, what are you going to do?" 

There was no fear in her voice. Simply a need for reassurance. Arthur placed an arm on her shoulder, and smiled at her. 

"What's the first thing I taught you to do when you're faced with new opponents?" 

Kelly looked away from her Grandfather far into the distance where the dust cloud of the Victoria was finally settling. 

"Study them," she said. 

Arthur scooped the tip of his cane through the trigger guard of Doak's Blaster and picked it up. He examined the weapon carefully, without touching it. 

"Exactly," he said. "Study them."   
  
  


__________________________**2**_____________________________   
  


** The Fellas**   
  


The noon day sun was a dazzle of soft focus flecks on the pond's dark waters. 

Arthur moored the kayak to the dock, picked up the bundle, his cane, and climbed up the ladder. Mara was there waiting for him with a mug   
of tur'kesh coffee in her hand. She looked at her time piece and raised a playful eyebrow. 

"You know... you're gettin' slower everyday," she remarked. 

"And you're gettin' prettier," he added. 

She smiled. They had said the same thing to each other for the past four years. 

Mara Del Winston was an attractive woman in her mid forties with sandy blonde hair, and dark brown eyes. She was blessed with a tall,   
swimmer's build, not surprising, when one considered that she was the head coach of Fallon's Senior Prep Girl's Swim Team. The old dock   
creaked under Arthur's weight as he stepped onto its hand cut planks. Mara shifted her weight, and looked at the bundle in his arms. 

"Is that... what I think it is??" she asked with a nervous tone. 

"Ah-yup," answered Arthur, playfully patting the burlap package. 

She nodded, her expression still serious as she passed him his coffee, and took the bundle off his hands. 

"You better let me have that then. The Fellas are waitin', Jord too." 

Arthur stopped, and looked at her. "Jord? You're kiddin'." 

Mara shook her head, bouncing her hair in a way that the old 'Sin-Guardian liked. 

"Not at-tall. He said you'd be needin' him." 

The retired 'Sin-Guardian smirked as he threw his arm around her waist. 

"Son... of a gun," he said to himself. How the old Elf always knew when his talents would be needed was a mystery to him. Together, Arthur   
and Mara walked into the simple A-frame building at the end of the mooring. A hand painted sign set high above an oak wood door creaked   
in the desert wind. It read:   
  


**RESSO'S POND MARINE CHATEAU**   


Fallon was a dry town (in more ways than one). A town ordinance had made it so going nearly back to its early prospecting days. The Club, as most   
natives referred to it, was a one-hundred and eighty year old building built of quary stone and wood (an expensive commodity on the Question), just   
outside of the town's northern border. Behind the grand establishment ran a row of bungalows and off the back lay a half completed sauna, nearly built,   
for winter guest. No one knew who had built the Club. Some said it was an Imperial Marine, dead nearly two centuries ago, and buried in the town's   
bone yard, on the east side of the lake. 

Mara's father had run the Club, as his father had before him, along with his best friend Ned Mason. When her father had died two years ago, she   
inherited his half. Ned, now in his eighties, still virtually ran the place, while she did the books, and served as innkeeper for any overnight guest. 

Over the generations every tavernkeeper had kept the original owner's commitment - the Club would be a place for family and gentlemen travelers.   
Everyone from as far south as Buckeye to as far north as Last Hell knew of Fallon and the Club, and even more knew of the 'Fellas' who stayed   
there. For that reason alone the place was always safe. No Red Klan member nor rustler, nor pirate, had ever set foot within its doors... and come   
out alive. 

The fresh smell of ham and sandalwood greeted Arthur as he opened the door for Mara. Along one side of the tavern's long mahogany bar old   
Ned stood cleaning a tall, clear pitcher and several shot glasses. The barkeeper and 'Sin-Guardian regarded each other with friendly nods, and the   
older man made his way back to the kitchen to get his friend's lunch. 

On the other side of the bar was Arthur's best friend and drinking buddy, Elwood Yourn. The tall, skinny man seemed to be straining a mug of coffee   
through his thick, sagebrush mustache. He turned with a gleam in his poker face eyes and silently walked over on hard soled boots. 

"I heard. You all right?" he asked in his direct and to the point manner. 

"Never better," answered Arthur. 

Elwood nodded at that, with the finality of a closed book, then noted the bundle under Mara's arm. He blinked twice, two more books slamming shut,   
before hooking his chin over his shoulder. 

"All right then, better come along, the Fellas want in on it." 

He led the way. 

The Fellowship was the name of their formal pact, but in outlying towns like Fallon no one stood on ceremony. The Fellowship became simply   
known as... the Fellas. 

The Fellas were seven individuals, retired 'Sin-Guardians from across the Empire who had settled on 2nd World Resso's Question for various reasons   
of their own. Some had dark pasts, while others were running from theirs. They were rogue 'Sin-Guardians with no home and no master to protect.   
Dangerous men, past their prime. They had come to the Question for sanctuary by taking an Oath of Fealty to the ruling Duke:   


"Never touch a firearm as long as you stay, and life on the Question is yours."   


The Fellas were sitting at a round table with a sheepskin cloth. Arthur looked down upon the group and smiled. They were the best friends a man   
could ask for. 

There was Kincaid, the one-armed 'Sin-Guardian. 

He was dressed in a clean tweed vest over a blue denim shirt buttoned to the top. His empty right sleeve was folded thrice and neatly pinned to his   
right shoulder. He lowered his Gods Damned playing cards and glanced up at Arthur. His face was clean shaven, save for his stark black goatee and   
eyebrows. His hair was snow white and closely cropped. He pushed out an empty chair from under the table. 

"Have a seat, Art. We've been waitin' to hear it." 

Next came Tyler. 

The youngest of the group at fifty-four (though he didn't look a day over thirty-five), and the quietest. Tyler mostly kept to himself nowadays, roaming   
the High Desert and checking on the prospectors of the Wayland Range. It was rumored that his current lover was a prospector's daughter, but that was   
none of Arthur's business. The former assassin must have come up recently, riding hard on his steed, Firebrant. His dirty brown hair, usually neatly tied in   
a pony-tail was a tangled mess, and his hair, ears and neck were caked with dry desert dust and sweat, along with his sharp mustache and van dyke beard.   
His Longsaw leaned against the wall next to him. 

To his side was Montoya. 

Montoya the Gambler, Montoya the fox, Montoya the Immortal. His rich, chocolate brown skin and long pepper gray hair highlighted his light brown   
eyes. He was the joker of the group, and the oldest at ninety, though you could hardly tell by looking at him. He was probably the craziest man Arthur   
had ever met, and the merriest - quick with a joke and a laugh. 

Every Skyday he would play cards and drink till midnight, enough to get even an Asgardian knee walking drunk, then regale the group (and all present   
in the tavern ) with tales of all the men he had fought, all the women he had slept with, and all the Hunns he had killed. His Sabersaw hung by its strap on   
the strut of his ladder back chair. It was the same saber that had given him the wrinkled scar across his forehead. The same saber that had removed his left   
ear. It's original owner was no more among the living. 

Next in the circle was Don. 

The Don, as the towns people called him. Don the Gentleman. He was undoubtedly the handsomest of the group. At sixty-four he still had his thick   
blonde hair, and dark blue eyes that could melt a woman from across a room. He wore a black vest over a tan denim shirt, denim trousers and hard riding   
boots. His great Cirrillian hunting knife was laid on the table next to his growing pile of chips. His eyes caught Mara's as he flashed her a flirtatious wink and   
a boyish grin. 

To his side sat his twin sister Kay. 

In better days, far and wide across the Question, she was known as Lady Kay. Those days had been several years ago, when she and her brother were a   
carnival act, traveling across the planet as 'Lady Kay and the Don'. The carnival fell to a tragic end, a dark past that Kay and her brother never spoke   
of, but which eventually brought them to Fallon. 

Kay was beautiful, but in many ways the exact opposite of her brother. Where Don would talk, she would listen. Where he would joke, she would laugh.   
She had the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a rabbit. None among the Fellas had better skills in trail-craft than her. She was a female 'Sin-Guardian, a rarity   
in the Order, and the men loved her like a sister. None more so than Kincaid himself. He never showed his feeling openly, but they were there. He was   
in love with her. 

Jord came next to complete the ring. He was the newest addition to the group, but far from being treated as an outsider. 

Five years ago the remains of an ancient Asgardian dragon bone yard was found in the High Desert, before Wayland Pass. It was estimated that they   
contained the remains of nearly a hundred dragons. Word quickly spread around the Empire, and eventually to the greater Tri-sector area itself, and   
attracting the attention of one Jord Runewood, Asgardian Archeologist, and High Elf of the House of Runewood. 

Like many Asgardians Jord was a talented mage, however, he used his arcane skills for science through the use of Divination spells. Complicated   
enchantments, mastered by few, Jord's spells allowed him to channel the psychic impressions imprinted on artifacts, relics, and even centuries old   
deceased remains. Discovering the secrets of the Archaen Dragons was to be the crowning achievemt of his illustrious career. 

Unfortunately, magic didn't work in the Archaen Quantum Zone, at least not with predictable results. 

For any Enchanter practicing within the Archaen Q-dex the outcome was always chaotic, sometimes even fatal. A mage trying to use a simple   
Illumination spell could cause the lights to go out in a room, or his teeth to glow. The results were never predictable. Some believed it had to do   
with the shifting alignment of the stars. Others, an energy field feedback from the reality's Quantum essence itself. Even the so called experts of the   
Flynch-HalpertQuantum Index had failed to give a plausible answer, only stating that it was the result of using the dregs of one reality in another.   
Whatever the reasons, the direct divination of the Dragon remains would be an impossible task. 

Or... so it seemed. 

Over the years, Jord and his team of student archologists worked to painstakingly worked to unearthed the Dragon remains, as he learned to adjust   
his arcane talents to yeild somewhat more predictable results. His first test came five years ago, when he attempted to place a weather pocket over the   
site of the dig to control the humidity of the dig. A point five earthquake resulted that cracked the water tower on the Reedmont Ranch and spoiled the   
first monthly meeting of the Women's Auxiliary Luncheon. From that day on one of the Fellas was always around to keep an eye on him. 

Jord's next test was a full year later when he attempted to make his first Divination spell on a dragon skeleton. Ten seconds after his new enchantment   
his skin turned pickle green. 

Arthur, who had been around that day to keep an eye on him, remembered the moment precisely. He laughed so hard he fell off his horse. Jord, who   
was not amused, turned to the laughing 'Sin-Guardian. Ten seconds later Arthur's skin was green as well. It was two months before both had their regular   
color back. The two had been fast friends ever since. A friendship that lead to the secret of Archaen magic.   


"No Liam?" asked Arthur looking around. 

Jord, holding his cards close to his tunic, shook his head in a exasperated way and sighed. 

"I sent him on a dig in the site's northern quadrant... then slipped out as soon as I could," 

Kincaid tossed a cobalt blue chip onto the table's growing pile. 

"You don't really think that lad will find anything... do you?" 

"Heh! ..That boy couldn't find crap in a bull's ass!, even with two hands and a flashlight," said Montoyo, adding his own bet. 

Liam was Legatee-Baron Liam Wimpole III of House DeFrancesco, Jord's graduate assistant. His father, Baron Lathom Wimpole II, was the archeological   
dig's biggest supporter. Liam came from a family of means, however, that birthright was no assurance of intelligence. Anyone who ever met Liam was quick   
to discover that. How he was even accepted into Archada University was still a wonder to Jord and the rest of the Fellas. One thing was clear, Liam's so   
called 'Independent Study' with Dr. Runewood was just a ploy to have him escape the rigors of a traditional academic environment. 

Jord studied his cards. 

"As long as he's out of my hair, I'm content." 

"Arthur..." began Kay, and the raising of her tacit voice was enough to nearly startle the group. She was staring at Arthur's troubled expression. 

"Is there anything wrong?" 

All eyes fell upon the old 'Sin-Guardian, who's eyes were clouded in deep reflection. 

*Ishtar,* he thought. *I'm losing my edge. Now I'm wool-gathering in front of the Fellas.* 

He blinked once, and pursed his lips. 

"Sorry... I was just thinking... I guess we've all had our own... problematic students." 

Heads nodded in agreement. 

In their younger days many of the Fellas had been instructors in the Assassin-Guardian Order. Elwood's youngest son, Cougar Yourn, was now   
the Imperial Assassin-Guardian to Prince Alestare Farfel Marcello, heir apparent to the Archaen Throne and holder of an Ephorate seat in the Galactic   
Union. Kincaid and Montoya had trained several 'Sin-Guardians who now served in the Archaen Diplomatic Corp, including Jan Church and Luer Pell. 

Arthur Tyson had them all beat. 

His greatest student was none other then Coleman Waryip himself, Master 'Sin-Guardian to his Majesty, Emperor Shadrach Farfel Marcello VI.   
Coleman was the Hand and Shield of the Emperor, and quite possibly the deadliest 'Sin-Guardian alive. 

Mara cleared her throat, and all eyes shifted her way as she hefted her burlap package. 

"Gentlemen... at your leisure," she said. 

"Our apology, Honor-Mara," said Don with a courtly nod. He turned to the group. "Call." 

Montoya laid down his hand. "HA! Three Imps," he exclaimed with triumphiant glee. 

"Damn," issued Kay, followed by her brother. 

"Odin... thought he was bluffing," said Jord. 

"I suspected as much," followed Tyler, laying down his weaker hand. All heads turned to Kincaid. The one armed 'Sin-Guradian grinned and   
showed his cards. 

"Three Demons," he said. 

Montoya's eyes went as wide as saucers. His mouth opened, shut, and opened again like the mouth of a vase, then issued a deep, belly-aching laugh,   
so hard it wrinkled the corners of his eyes. 

"Take them! Take them, my one-armed bandit!" said the older assassin, pushing the pile towards his friend and shaking his head with laughter.   
Moments later the table was cleared and Mara placed the heavy parcel onto the sheepskin cloth. Elwood and Arthur took their seats and she   
pressed Arthur's temple with two soft lips. 

"I'll tell Ned to keep your food warm," she said and left through the bat-wing doors of the kitchen. 

The Fellas were alone. 

Sand pebbles pecked at the tavern widows as Arthur removed the burlap folds and revealed the things inside. The Fellas stared in silence for several   
moments before Elwood spoke. 

"Let's hear it," he said. 

Five minutes later they had the story. 

"Sheriff Gains scanned everything for bioprints and uploaded the data to the Central Palace," said Arthur "He's not expecting   
them to find a criminal record match, and neither am I. So... he asked us to inspect these clues for him." 

"Red Klan?" asked Jord looking at the faces of his friends. 

"Only one way to find out," said Tyler. 

The Fellowship joined hands, forming an interlocking circle. 

In the early days of their friendship Jord and Arthur unwittingly discovered the secret to Archaen magic. It began when both men had an unsettling   
feeling after Jords flawed enchanted test that their new green skin might be a permanent feature of their appearance. 

Arthur had no problem with the condition. He had already busted the jaw of a Militia Captain who had made a snide remark while passing through   
Fallon with a squad of troops. Since then no one had mentioned his jade hue. 

Jord, on the other hand, was a different story. He was quickly losing the respect of his fellow students. 

One day a knocked came at the door of Arthur's home. The retired 'Sin-Guardian greeted Jord at the front entrance with a startled look. His friend's   
hair was the color of a bright carrot and in the shape of a dozen cat tails. He had tried another spell. 

"Right," he said walking past Arthur. "We put an end to this here and now. I think I've discovered a way to reverse the magic." 

"Sure... come on in," said the Archaen, and closed the door behind him. 

The secret was in willpower. 

Magic in the Archaen Atomic Zone was too chaotic for one individual to wield. But, individuals pooling their wills together had a much better chance.   
Contact and concentration was all that was required. Jord and Arthur sat down in his home's parlor, and after Jord explained, the two grapsed hands, as   
if in greeting, and concentrated. Jord's Reverse Spell did the rest. Thirty seconds later his hair was normal. One minute later the skin of both men had   
grown lighter. By the end of the month not only had Arthur recovered, but he now had the skin and complexion of a younger man, and the turned head   
of one Mara Del Winston. 

That was four years ago. 

Jord removed Tommy's gun from the burlap wrappings. 

Not sworn under the Duke's Oath, he was the only one allowed to touch the weapon. Carefully, holding only the tip of the gun's muzzle, he place it on   
the table in front of him. His left hand held Kay's, who in turn held her brother's. Around the table the hand chain linked, ending in Arthur who placed his   
own right hand upon Jord's, now placed gently over the gun. 'Sin-Guardians and the mage began to concentrate, pooling thier wills into a single collective.   
An arcane hush began... 

The chateau doors flew open, and a wire-thin scarecrow rushed into the tavern. 

"Dr. Runewood!... I heard! I heard you were..." 

All the heads in the room swung like weather vanes in a pre-storm gale, facing the young man who had just entered. Their expressions were far from   
happy, and Liam Wimpole III froze in his tracks. 

"Liam ..." and there was exasperation in the word, "I left you in charge of the northern site..." began Jord. 

The young student, no more than twenty four by the looks of him, stepped closer to the group. 

"I know. I let Quin take over. I heard about the trouble and..." 

"Boy!... if you don't shut up and sit down right NOW I'm gonna skin ya ta the bone!" 

Elwood was half out of his seat with his right hand clamped over his Combat dagger. 

Liam turned white as chalk. Jord sighed. 

"My... apologies Honor-Archaens," said the Elf. He turned to his student. 

"Laim, sit down and be silent. This is a private affair, that's why you weren't invited." 

And another sigh was issued by the archeologist, before saying, 

"So be it then, you're here, but... if I so much as hear you breath... you'll be on the first off-world shuttle tomorrow." 

The scarecrow deflated, becoming impossibly thinner. 

"But... but you promised my father to teach me..." 

The sound of Elwood's drawn steel sent the youth scrambling for a stool. He whimpered, 

"... Magic... is all I'm saying." 

The circle stared at him for a few immesurable seconds. 

"Screw the oath, I'll shoot him myself," growled Montoya. 

"Get in line," said the Don. 

Arthur wondered if Liam realized just how close to death he actually was. 

"He ain't worth the lead, fellas," said Kincaid ruling the matter done. 

Elwood resheathed his blade and sat down. 

"Or his weight in sh..." 

"Easy El," said Arthur, knowing that Elwood had the shortest temper out of all the group. 

Turning, he locked eyes with the Lagatee-Baron. The scorning look leveled back at him wasn't surprising. In the time Arthur had know the student   
he had seen it many times. Laim didn't like Arthur. That much was true. 

"Liam, can we trust you to keep what you're about to see?" asked the retired 'Sin-Guardian. 

The young noble's eyes widen with a covetous look. 

"Then you're are going to do it! You're having a Séance?" 

His grin was over eager, nearly lustful. 

"Aye that. Me and the Fellas are about to do some spirit-rapping,   
though... what you may see might not be that pleasant." 

"I'm no child, Mr. Tyson," answered the student, nearly in a disparaging tone. Arthur could feel Elwood tense next to him. 

"No one said you were son. Your word." 

Liam crossed his lanky arms over his chest. "Truth!" he oathed, flashing a satisfied smirk. It faltered under the measuring stares of the   
gathered 'Sin-Guardians. 

Arthur suspected that he knew the opinions of his friends. Elwood, Tyler, Kincaid, and Don couldn't stand the sight of the lad. Sometimes he   
wondered what they would do if the youth ever crossed their paths in shadow. Montoya and Jord considered him a nuisance. He suspected Kay,   
like himself, thought of the boy in a different way. 

Like a stray hound that had been kicked too many times, Liam Wimpole III was trouble waiting to explode.   
  
  
  
  


__________________________**3**_____________________________   
  


** Spirit-rapping**   
  
  


Be careful what you wish for. 

The old saying began to worm itself forward from the back of Liam's mind. The first sign was Ned turning off nearly all the lights in the tavern,   
followed by the closing of a second solid door behind the galley's ornate bat-wings with a sound of finality. The Legatee-Baron shifted uneasily on   
his stool as if he realized he had an exclusive front row seat to something horrible. 

The second sign was worse. 

The Fellowship had rejoined their hands in an interlocking circle. Their eyes were shut in tight concentration, and more, so he could feel the heat   
of their wills flowing off of them like a high fever. Jord began to speak, not in the the clear majestic tenor that he invoked in his normal spell casting.   
This time there was a woeful edge to his voice, the way one sounds when burdened with sad news, or the loss of a loved one. The room grew colder   
and Liam could feel his flesh goosebump and pucker. The hair on the back of his neck tightened. The few glow lamps left on began to dim, as if their   
very atomic substance had diminished. That's when Liam saw it. Something he would never reveal to another living soul, and only relive in the moments   
of his worse nightmares. 

Tendrils of smoke began to drift off from the tavern's furniture, wafting high into the room's 'A' frame ceiling. The animal head trophies mounted   
high around the walls of the chateau smouldered next, only the plumes coming off of them were a dark swamp green, with animated undulating curls.   
Curls that took shape. 

Liam saw a Cirrillian Bull bellowing in the wanning moment of its death throes. A blood covered Longsaw was lanced between its shoulders. 

He saw a Mountain Cat dying from the six slugs in its chest. It opened its long fang toothed mouth and issued a morbid, piercing wail, so loud Liam   
clamped his hands over his ears as his heart jackhammered in his ribs. 

He saw an arrow puncturing the heart of a Gray Condor, and the near lifeless bird falling over and over, seemingly hundreds of feet to its death. 

Liam didn't know how he knew these thing - the exact moment and method of the animal's deaths... but he did. As much as he knew his own name   
and his face in the mirror. He shivered, and closed his eyes. 

The third sign came next. 

It began as a clawing whisper at his ears. A familiar sound. Liam opened his eyes and found the room heavy with a thick fog and translucent figures   
ambling about as if in a daze. They were mumbling. Scratching caws that congealed into a low white noise, something that was just above a whisper, but   
lower than a gurgle. The figures were the regular patrons of the bar while others, were town regulars. 

He saw Andy Sumkin and was shocked at his reflexive urge to say hello to the shade. Andy was killed last year when his horse had died in the High   
Desert and he had tried to walk home. He had been descended upon by a flock of Wind Spiders. There wasn't much left of him for the funeral. His shade   
walked past Liam and the Legatee-Baron felt as if someone had limped across his grave. 

He saw the Widow Aphelia who had passed away in her sleep two months ago at the astounding age of one hundred and sixteen. He saw small   
children, and married couples and old maids, and drifters who had passed through town, all walking with vacant eyes and hushed voices. Liam realized   
now that Dr. Runewood hadn't evoked his normal Divination spell. This was something far, far different and far darker than his teacher had ever revealed. 

Jord raised his voice and Liam nearly jumped out of his skin. The shades dissolved like mirages in a wave of simmering heat along the alkaline dunes   
near the horizon. Their forms disapated along with their dwindling voices. The room was now quiet, with a temperature so low the Lagetee-Baron could   
see the frost from his own breath. Jord raised his head, with his eyes knit shut, and evoked the second stanza of his spell. 

A small spherical cloud began to appear over the Fella's table, and for the first time Liam realized that he couldn't see all the contents in the burlap   
wrappings. He didn't really know what Dr. Runewood and the Fellas were divining. Before the thought of moving closer came to him an aperture opened   
in the center of the cloud, like an eye - the eye of a cyclone, growing exponentially larger. Images began to form in the hole. Dim at first, but building to   
an out of focus landscape with the tone of a late evening day hanging in the sky. The cloud's edge expanded along with the image, growing, and nearly   
touching the walls of the tavern, until, with one final surge, the room bleached white...   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  


Liam was someplace different. 

The core of his mind begged for it to be an illusion, one no different form the effects of a good Holo story. But his   
suspension of disbelief was heightened, more so because he wasn't seeing things through his own eyes, but through the   
eyes of another person. Somehow he knew he was 'in' the mind of someone elses body, and in contact with all of their   
sensory perceptions. He could feel the heat of the desert sun on his lower back, the smell of dry grass in the air with   
the hint of moisture, and the sound of a weapon being pulled from its holster. And most of all, the weight of it in his hand. 

The gun came swung into view, and Liam felt even more disembodied as he saw a hand (not his own) holding it. A second   
hand entered and loaded high-caliber wounder shells into the weapon's barrel. Somehow Liam could feel the crawl of the   
owner's thoughts commanding its hand, like the movement of worms through a thin bag. The hand did work independent of   
his own (Liam's) thoughts, slammed the barrel shut and cocked back the hammer. His view panned and swirled to the right   
and other men came into view. They were all dressed in black with thick black hoods over their heads despite the sweltering   
heat. One of the men nodded and Liam experienced a first-person-point-of- view of a flat out run. The concussive up and down   
staccato of the runner's foot falls were nearly nauseating. Up ahead somehow Liam discern the other hooded figures, a structure,   
and a sign posted on a high quarry stone fence. It read: 

**Provincial Militia Armory**

The two men in front took point positions on either side of the fence, and the man who's thoughts Liam was riding ran   
through the open gate. He felt the crawling command to raise the gun arm before he saw a Militia guard's turning, startled   
face. The gun arm fired, and Liam wanted to scream, but couldn't. The bullet struck the guard square in the head and a hole   
puckered his skull like a third eye. The hand fired again as the guard fell to the clay colored ground and Liam's view pushed   
in closer as the gun arm emptied it's weapon completely into the man's body. Liam felt the bile rise in his throat at the cruelty   
of the act, but instead a voice issued out. A voice not his own. 

"Dat good enough, boss?" said the voice, and somehow Liam knew the circle of Fellas had spoken the same words as a chorus. 

The view panned left. 

A man stood examining the body. He too was dressed in black with a similar hood, but there was something oddly familiar   
about him that Liam didn't like. The hooded figure simply looked at the body, and the smoke drifiting out of it's gunshot wounds,   
and nodded. 

"Put your gun away," he said, and the Fellas echoed his words.   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  


Liam's eyes snapped open. 

His whole body was covered in sweat that caused his thin, denim shirt to stick too him like a wet sheet. He was back in the tavern with the rest   
of the Fellas who broke their circle of concentration. Jord looked exhausted, while the rest had pushed expressions on their faces. The lights dialed   
up in the room and the door to the kitchen opened. Ned rushed out with a full tray of shot glasses and Noe Brandy wine. 

"Interesting..." said Elwood as he stroked his thick mustache. 

"That looked to be Fort Brom in the Vast," said Arthur. 

"That's north of here, the same direction you said the Vicky came into town," followed Kay. 

Heads nodded. Ned set the glasses and uncorked the bottle. Kincaid began to pour the rounds. 

"Is that all? Is that it," called Liam in a voice more faltering than he would have like. 

Kincaid halted in the act of pouring the last glass. He said, "You hear somethin'?" 

Liam froze and bit his lip. 

"Most likely a mouse fart," said Elwood as he threw down his drink, followed by the others. 

Ned picked up the tray, passed by the young Legatee-Baron, stopped and handded him his flask. Liam didn't know if he read pity in the old   
bartender's face, or resentment. 

"Drink, and keep your mouth shut," he whispered. 

Liam did both, and passed the decanter back. The bar keeper headed back to the kitchen, tray clipped under his arm, and slammed the door   
down behind him. The lights faded, and Jord took out the second item from the parcel. It was Doak's gun and this time Liam caught the gun metal   
gleam of the Imperial Torpedo Blaster. The Fellowship joined hands and Jord placed his hand over the second weapon. 

The world bleached white...   


_______________________________________________________________   
  


He was punched in the gut. 

A shocking pain that knocked all the air out of his lungs, followed by the vertical rush of falling. He crashed onto a hard,   
wooden floor as he fought back tears and the taste of cooper in his mouth. In the back of his mind Liam knew it wasn't 'him'   
that had actually been punched, but whoever's mind he had been osmoised into through the trappings of Jord's Divination spell.   
He was now experiencing things through the mind of the person who had last held the Torpedo Blaster. A peson who was being   
beaten up. 

Liam heard slurred curses all around him. His view revealed that he was inside a building. He could glimpse a ceilings and a   
wall and noted the reinforced structure of the chamber and the rows of crates and container compartments. The word armory   
seemed to press itself against whatever gossamer viel separated his thoughts from that of the mind he was sharing, and that   
had been the only rational thought to press through. The rest were laced with a deep, dreaded fear, like a dark coda of knowledge   
that ices the mind with the foreknowledge of death. The man whose mind Liam was now was sharing. feared that he was going   
to die. 

Liam knew he was a Milita Guard, not the one he saw killed, but someone different. Through the man's eyes he could see   
hooded figures came into view and picked him up off the floor. A larger man in a hooded mask was the closest to him. He was   
the one whose mind he had been in before - the one who had emptied a full clip of bullets into the first Militia Guard. The   
same man now wrapped his hands around the wrist of the guard he had just punched, and the view panned. Liam saw a Torpedo   
Blaster in his (the guard's) hand, enveloped by Doak's (that was the man's name he was in before! and the knowledge blew over   
the student's mind like windsand) larger one. Liam could feel Doak twist the guard's hand, gun and all behind his back, and violently   
turn him. 

"Let him go," said a voice, eerily familiar. A voice devoid of any slang, accent or brogue. 

It was the voice of the man Doak had called 'boss'. The hooded man stood before him now, no more then twenty paces across   
the room. He threw aside a heavy black cloak to reveal a pair of dusty dark trousers and a white shirt. Belted to his right hip and   
thigh was the scabbard of a Combat-dagger, and a blade about twenty centimeters in length with a ornate handle that caught glints   
of light. Liam could feel Doak back away from the man. His arms were free now. 

"Your arm against mine, my friend. Blaster against blade. Kill me, and you live." said the hooded man called 'boss'. 

A fetid silence filled the room, and Liam could feel the man breathing. 

"Klan scum!" The man's voice was like thunder in Liam's head, then the young student could feel the liquid pouring of the guard's   
thoughts as his gun arm came up, tendons tensing down his forearm and wrist, finger squeezing the trigger. 

The hooded man was faster. 

He moved with speed that the Legatee-Baron didn't believe was possible. One moment the man was perfectly still. The next he   
was in the telling pose of a knife thrower, only the dagger wasn't in his hand, wasn't in the scabbard. Liam barely caught the faint   
glint of flying steel before the blade struck. 

Struck the guard dead in the throat.   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  


Arthur fell to the floor. His Jaw split wide in a rictus of pain as he clutched his upper right thigh - his bad leg. 

Liam woke up and saw the old 'Sin-Guardian cradling his limb on the floor and the pool of blood welling between his fingers. That was enough.   
The Legatee-Baron jumped to his feet, turned and ran out of the Resso's Pond Marine Chateau as fast as he could. It was several minutes before he   
realized the screaming voice that he was hearing was his own. 

No one saw him ever again. No one... save Arthur.   
  
  
  
  


__________________________**4**_____________________________   
  


** Arthur's Confession**   
  


"Three men walked into the tavern with all the integrity of thrift store sheets. I turned to face them from the bar,   
taking their piercing stares like straight whiskey. Their clothes and faces were musky, caked with the alkaline dust of   
the High Desert, and the sweaty smell of oil. 

"Grinding the heels of my palm against the bar, I pushed myself away, and stood with my gun arm casually resting   
against the holster on my leg, and the weight it held. They looked at me, a broken down old man standing to face them   
like they had seen worse than me in a mouse's litter. 

"Draw, I said..." 

Arthur Tyson rose his free hand with a lopsided grin. In his other he held his youngest Granddaughter, Rose. 

"First of all... broken down old man?" And he arched his eyebrows ans furrowed his brow. "And second... it didn't happen that way." 

"I know, gramps ...it's just," began Justin Tyson lowering his dictation pad. "Well... it's all over town. Caitlyn says   
you beat up six men with one hand! An' Milly Wilson says you just stared at them, real mean like... like the way   
you do!" 

The fourteen year old stood with his own furrowed brow and piercing stare - a dead on impression of his Grandfather. Laughter erupted from   
the kitchen, forcing Arthur to suppress his own. 

"... And they just drove out of town!" 

The young, aspiring writer lowered his head in a heavy solemn way, and shrugged. 

"It's just... no one's giving me a straight story, Gramps." Then he looked up with the bright and innocent eyes that only a fourteen year old could muster. 

"Can you tell me what really happened?" 

Arthur stood up form his reading chair, a slow and stiff movement hampered by the tight new bandage around his upper thigh. Satisfied with the limits   
of his strict mobility he looked at his three month old granddaughter held in the crook of his arm. The two beamed at each other with crystal blue eyes as   
he tickled her feet. 

"There's not much to tell, Jus. I just chased them out of town, that's all." 

The retired assassin shrugged. 

"Aw... come on Gramps! You never tell me any of your stories! Your adventures on the Dreamworld VI,   
the Hunn Wars, your duel with Grundy Broadshoulders... nothing!" 

"And you know the answer why?" he replied. 

"I know... I know..." The young boy flumped onto the floor in a cross legged fashion and pouted. 

"I'm not old enough. How am I suppose to be a great writer if I don't know anything?" he protested, seemingly to the whole world. 

Arthur walked past him, a strong stride despite his recent wound, and frazzled his Grandson's hair. He stopped before the parlor's picture window,   
lowered the transparent storm shutters, and stared out at the dun colored world beyond. Since coming home he had been casually lowing the shutters   
in every room in the stone, twenty room cottage. The parlor was the last one. Now, through the picture window he could see the low eveing sun.   
It was like a blood clot over the Great Sandy Mountains. 

"All right, Jus, in the genre of roman á clefs you may be pushing things a bit far, but other than that... I like it." 

"Yeah?" 

Arthur turned to his Grandson with an approving grin. 

"Yes." 

Rose squealed from tickling fingers. 

"Don't work her up, Arthur!" called her mother from the kitchen. "She needs to sleep soon," 

"Wouldn't think of it," he called, and tickled her again then tuned back to Justin. 

"The real question is will you be done with it before the Arrival Festival? The White will be here in a week." 

"Watch me!" returned the young boy, jumping to his feet. "This is just the beginning, but I'll give my best reading   
yet and take first prize!" 

But the boys look of enthusiasm faded as he watched his Grandfather deep in thought. The older man turned and stared out the window again.   
Quietly, Justin walked to his side. 

"Gramps... when the White arrives... will you go aboard?" 

The White was the Interstellar Fortress and Palace of the Archaen Empire. A formidable Space City five miles long, three miles wide and two miles   
high. It was the home of The Royal Family and two million Archaen citizens. Arthur answered without breaking his stare. 

"No." 

"It'll be good for your soul." 

"I don't have a soul, son," said Arthur. 

Justin jerked back in a startled way, opened his mouth, then closed it. 

"Jus, go wash up for dinner." 

Katrina Tyson stood in the archway of the kitchen, drying her hands on a cotton apron. Her beautiful face was elfin in shape with hard brown eyes   
and chestnut colored hair that the Question's sun had hardly faded. 

"Yes 'em," answered her son. Turning on heavy feet he headed for the home's single staircase. 

"Justin..." 

The young boy turned to the sound of his Grandfather's voice and found his fragile stare. He had never seen his Grandfather look so vulnerable. 

"I never dueled Grundy Broadshoulders, lad. I just got him drunk." 

Both Grandfather and Grandson smiled, and with a quick nodded Justin bounded up the staircase. Katrina came to her Father In-law's side, and   
shared his view out the picture window. A few moments past, then, 

"You okay?" she asked. 

Arthur gently rocked Rose. 

"Kat, it's been the choicest of days," he answered. 

"So I've heard." She looked at his bandaged leg. "Care to talk about it?" 

The retired 'Sin-Guardian turned to her, and she nearly took a step back. Gone was his ever present mask of control and mystery. The face before   
her now was tired, and a little sad, she thought. 

"Not really... but I will," said Arthur. He gestured towards the parlor's couch and the two sat down. Katrina held back her look of surprise. 

"I must say... this... is unusual. You almost never tell us anything concerning you, or the Fellas." 

Her Cirrillian brogue showed through, something that only happened when she was excited, or tired. Arthur nodded. 

"I want to tell you about how I got this wound on my leg." 

Kat looked at his limb again. 

"You mean from your Séance?" 

Arthur's look was sharp, and Kat smiled. 

"Mara told me as much when she brought you over." 

The retired 'Sin-Guardian nodded with a sly grin, reserved, Katrina thought, for Mara's indiscretion. 

"Actually, I want to tell you about how I originally got crippled." 

Now Katrina was openly touched, and perhaps a little frightened. Arthur's crippled leg had been something of a family mystery, and a subject   
to be well avoided. 

"Arthur, I... why are you bring this up?" she asked, seaching his face for the answer. He tossed his chin, a gesture that seemed to encompass   
the entire world. 

"Rumor's spread, and the truth is distorted. Such will be the case after what happens... happened today." 

Rose yawned and Arthur passed her on to her mother, then contiuned. 

"The children won't always have their Grandfather around, and when that day comes... I want them to know   
the truth about the kind of man I was." 

Kat started to protest, but Arthur cut her off. 

"This is important, Kat, something I have to say." Arthur blinked a couple of times, then added, "And maybe because it's easier to tell you than Daniel." 

He shrugged. and she noticed that he was clinching and uncliniching his hands. Kat knew her husband, an Imperial Ecologist, would be arriving on the   
White by the end of the week. Daniel and his father had always been close, but Katrina now sensed that whatever Arthur was about to say would threaten   
that very bound. 

"I had once told Daniel that his mother was killed by outlaws near the Empty Ness asteroid region, and that   
I... I was wounded in the fight. That was both the truth... and an outright lie." 

The old 'Sin-Guardian looked down at his clinching hands. He opened them and laid them on his thighs. 

"It happened seventeen years ago when I was the Imperial Taskmaster. The High Teacher of Imperial 'Sin-Guardians   
who would one day protect members of the Royal Family. On this particular day... I caught my wife in bed with one   
of my greatest students." 

Katrina's hand's went to her face. 

"Arthur... Genevieve was cheating on you?" 

The older man nodded. 

"With Coleman Waryip?" she quietly asked. Arthur smiled, and shook his head. 

"No, another student. One who I kicked out of the Order when he protested my choice of Coleman as my protégé.   
A young man named... Malcom Shaw." 

"But...why? You and Genevieve were so in love." 

Arthur looked down at his leg as if the answer was there. 

"At the time I didn't ask. I simply pulled my Combat blade completely fixed on killing Shaw. Eve threw herself between   
us and begged for the bastard's life." 

The ticking of the mantle clock was the only sound in the room. Arthur stood up and walked back towards the parlor window. 

"Eve was fifteen years younger than me. She was always impulsive... wild, attracted to dangerous men. I think she married   
me for who I was...The Imperial Taskmaster, and not for who I am. After we had Daniel I thought she would settle down.   
I was wrong." 

The retired 'Sin-Guardian turned back to Katrina. 

"To this day I don't remember what she said to me... only that she had broken my faith. I lowered my blade because it felt   
like a million stones, gave it to her and told Shaw to get the hell out. As I watched him leave I caught her movement in the   
corner of my eye, and Ishtar help me... I did nothing. She plunged my dagger into my leg, and through the bone. She and   
Shaw left, blade and all. And I... I laid on the floor wanting to bleed to death. Sometimes... I wonder why I didn't." 

The retired assassin looked down at his bandaged limb. 

"I declined any surgery to fix my leg. I wanted to keep the wound as a reminder of my failure." 

Katrina looked at him as if she had never uttered the word. Arthur nodded. 

"Eve could have killed me, Kat, but instead she sent me a clear message when she stabbed me - don't follow. So I didn't.   
When I could walk again I retired from the Order. A crippled 'Sin-Guardian could never serve as a Taskmaster. I moved   
off the White and settled on the Question." 

Rose was asleep and Katrina gently put youngest child in her bassinet. Standing, she wrung her hands nervously in her apron. 

"Seventeen years is a long time to punish yourself, Arthur, but you're not a failure." 

He looked at her and for the first time she realized just how very mortal he was. 

"I fail as a husband, Kat. I should have seen it coming. I should have tried harder to make Eve happier." 

"No... no, that's not true, you're a wonderful man, Arthur. It was Eve who cheated, not you. She's the one to blame." 

"Maybe." Her Father In-law slowly shook his head. "But after years of pondering I can't help but to think that I didn't   
try hard enough." 

An uncomfortable silence rested between them, broken only by Rose's even breathing. 

"Arthur... why haven't you told us this before?" 

"Moving to the Question was a clean slate for me, Kat. Especially when you and Daniel moved here and gave me the   
family I never had... and with Mara... love I never knew possible. Everything else was just... behind me." 

Katrina looked at his injuried limb. 

"Then why did the Séance re-opened your wound?" 

Arthur frowned. 

"We were divining a Torpedo Blaster I took from one of the Klansmen. It belong to a Militia guard who was killed   
by a dagger. The same dagger that did this." 

He patted his thigh, and Katrina paled. 

"The same... blade? But, that means..." 

Arthur shrugged. 

"That fate's got a twisted sense of humor, Kat. After Eve and Shaw left several rumors began to circulate on their   
whereabouts. One turned out to be true. Eve and Shaw tried to sell the blade to the Red Klan to secure passage to   
the K'tan Empire. Personal 'Sin-Guardian weapons were like trophies to the Klan. On the black-market they can go   
as high as a ten thousand Omnium." 

Kat pursed her lips. "But... you said that they tried to sell it." 

"Tried and were killed. Eve's body was returned to me. Shaw's was badly burned, but genetic scans proved it was him.   
His remains were returned to his family. Over the years I never gave much thought to my blade. I guess it's just a freak   
coincidence that it end up here." 

Katrina crossed her arms. 

"Arthur Tyson, there isn't a 'Sin-Guardian alive who believes in coincidence. This sounds like someone set you up. Like   
you were meant to divine that gun just to get hurt." 

"Maybe, but I'm in no position to prove it." 

She beamed him a questioning look, and he answered. 

"We learned from the Séance that the Klan had robbed an armory of weapons and enough explosives to level a small mountain.   
The rest of the Fellas have gone after them." 

"After them! But... it could be a trap!" 

Katrina stepped closer to her Father In-law, but Arthur pressed her with a sly look. 

"I think they know that," he said, then held up his hand before she could continue. 

"Katrina, the Fellas have nearly a combined Mindage of a full millennium. They may be old, but they're smart. They know what   
they're doing. We just have to trust them and let this game play through." 

She wrung her hands. "Ishtar's love..." she whispered staring over his shoulder and out the window. 

" ...till the stars die out," he finished. Arthur turned and they looked over the far reaching dunes knowing that friends and enemies were out there   
in the dying light. Finally, he said, 

"Kat, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty hungry. How about that dinner?" 

She looked up and shared his warm smile before turning for the kitchen. 

"All right, I'll warm up the soup. See if Kelly's coming from school, then we'll eat." 

"She's not home?" Both the intersity of the question and his expression startled her. 

"No... she called saying she would be a little late. With your injury she was doing a double shift as a Crossing ..." 

Arthur moved past her, picked up his cane, rushed through the kitchen and out the back door. 

The Tyson home was built at the base of a small hill topped by a tall Heath tree. Years ago Arthur's son hung a swing from a strong low laying   
branch, and since then it had always been Kelly's favorite place to play after school. Arthur leaned on his cane and began hiking up the high incline.   
On the other side of the Hill was a small trail that on early school day mornings Arthur and Kelly took to town for their Crossing Guard duties,   
then and back again when the day was done. Reaching the top he hoped against hope to to see her coming down the trail in the distance. 

The path was empty. 

Instantly his senses came alive and he began down the other side of the hill when suddenly he stopped. The tree swing swayed in a fragile wind,   
and Arthur felt something harden in his chest, like a lump of lead. 

On the swing was a single object - Kelly's slingshot. Walking over he he picked it up before noticing the scrawl written in the ground. Three words   
that cut like a knife and chilled him to the bone. 

**NANO MILL - ALONE**

Suddenly, the world around him overexposed to a brilliant white, bleaching ever shadow for miles around. A mind-splitting sound wave hit his ears   
and shattered every widow in the town of Fallon, throwing the retired assassin to the ground with the concussive force of a hurricane. His ears rang with   
a high pitched sound as he struggled to his feet and looked over his home, over the expanse of the desert to the horizon in the direction the Fellas had gone. 

The nuclear mushroom cloud rose slowly towards the heavens, as if the very gates of hell had been flunging open themselves. Already he could smell   
the acrid ordor of ozone. It was like brimstone. 

"Damn..." he whispered.   
  


** __________________________5**_____________________________   


** Kelly's Fate**   
  
  


The water tower on the far side of town was the first to lose the evening sun. 

Arthur watched the the last of the wagon transports leave town as he brushed the ash from his Crossing Guard sash. A useless gesture.   
It would be raining ash for months to come. The nuclear detonation had occurred an hour ago, though no signs of radiation or fallout had   
reached the town yet (and for that he was thankful). There were other, more disruptive effects. All power and communications had been cut   
off for nearly a hundred square miles, perhaps more, as far as Sheriff Gains was concern. Many of Fallon's retire vets whispered the possibility   
of a Quantum Nuke, a weapon that could temporary unravel the very fabric of a Q-dex. If true, all levels of technical machinery would be inoperable   
for nearly a week... or longer. 

Ned Mason came to Arthur's side. Like him, he too was a town Emergency Volunteer, though the only emergencies that normally hit the town   
were seasonal sandstorms, and those weren't due for months to come. Ned was as pale as a sheet with ruddy, bloodshot eyes. He'd been drinking,   
but Arthur didn't blame him. 

"Is that the last of 'em?' he asked. Arthur nodded and said, 

"Everyone should be in Westmont by morning." 

"Goddess, who would have thought... carrying a nuke in that   
Vicky! A nuke! If they had detonated while in town..." 

The bartender shivered. 

"We wouldn't be having this conversation," said Arthur, though his voice sounded absent and distant. Ned turned to him. 

"Art... I'm sorry 'bout the Fellas. Who would have guessed... I mean Goddess an honest nuclear warhead right here in Fallon!" 

"It's the age we live in, Ned. We'll count bodies and mourn later. You should get going." 

Ned looked around at the town as if it were the last time he would see it. He nodded and Arthur wondered if the man was blinking back tears or dust. 

"Aye that. You need a ride?" asked his friend. 

The retired 'Sin-Guardian shook his head. 

"Kat's waiting for me with the kids at home. Tell Mara   
I'll see her tomorrow." 

"That I will. Goddesspeed, Art." 

Arthur watched Ned head for his own ox rig, regretting in his heart the lie he had just said, as much as his other lie to Katrina. 

After the blast he quickly order Kat to take Rose and Justin to the storm shelters in Westmont. Then he lied, something he had never done to   
his Daughter In-law. He told her Kelly was still at school. Katrina was nearly in a panic, and for a long, uncertain moment Arthur didn't think he   
could convince her to go and let him find her instead. She knew he would have to stay and help evacuate the town and if she had tried to look for   
her it would only contribute to the the town's growing panic. 

"Kel's probably directing the evac even as we speak." he joked. 

Somehow it worked. Katrina's weak smile spoke volumes as he watched her drive away in the first horse caravan from the Reedmont ranch.   
Rose was in her arms and Justin by her side. 

That too was an hour ago. 

Arthur turned and cane walked in the direction of his home, crunching countless shards of broken glass and debris in Fallon's empty cobblestone   
streets. He waved to Ned as he drove by and when his rig was out of sight, Arthur stopped and quickly crossed the deserted street to a small alley.   
He scanned his surrounding area, and when satisfied he was alone he bent over his satchel hidden in the dark. Taking his sash off he quickly stashed   
it inside the shoulder bag, then and double checked the other items he had removed from his War Chest. Items he hadn't used in nearly two decades. 

With a sense of reverence he put on his Sensor-glove and a black leather arm sheath with three long stiletto like darts. He removed two more items,   
hooked them to the back of his belt and was satisfied. Zipping up the satchel he stood and began the fifteen minute walk to the Nano-mill on the other   
side of town. Injury, or no injury the walk would loosen him up. He would need to be. Tonight there would be killing. 

Tonight, Arthur Tyson was coming out of retirement.   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  


The figure pounded on the doors of the Nano-mill, knocking dust from the fabricated seams of the modern factory. The factory was a large,   
foreboding structure whose prolife looked more like a fortress than a manufacturing plant. It was built on the towns tallest plane, a solid knot of   
basalt that was more mesa than hill. It was also the only structure in town who's foundation wasn't cracked by the nuclear blast. 

"You can't do this to me! You promised! You promised!" screamed the figure at the top of his lungs, still hammering at the Cirrillian steel doors.   


"My father will have your heads! I..." 

Liam Wimpole III suddenly stopped. He heard something. He whirled in the direction of the setting sun as if expecting to be descended upon   
by a flock of Wind Spiders. 

The barren hill was empty (as empty as the lightless town of Fallon at its base) and the powerless forms of security droids and silica haulers looked   
like grotesque pre-historic creatures in the sun's silhouette. Liam breathed easy, and nearly turned away when he caught something in the corner of his   
eye. A shadow detached itself from the landscape. It rose and walked with the cadence of a cane, a steady movement directly towards him with strict,   
direct purpose. Liam felt his blood drop colder than the coming desert night. His breath drew thin as Arthur Tyson pushed closer, his face, foretelling   
only one thing. 

Death.   


"I... I didn't hurt her! I swear to Ishtar the drug was fast acting! She's... she's inside." 

The 'Sin-Guardian's right hand reached behind his back, and Liam nearly soiled himself. Arthur pulled out a small, black disc about as thick and   
wide as his palm, then stopped five even paces from the young man. Liam looked at the explosive puck charge in Arthur's hand, and silently prayed   
for his life. 

"She's... she's right inside," he announced again with a whimper.   
"They promised they wouldn't hurt..." 

"Leave," ordered the 'Sin-Guardian. 

"What?" stammered Liam. 

"Leave, or I swear to Ishtar I won't leave enough of you for a DNA scan!" 

The words were clipped with a razor sharp edge, but it was 'Sin-Guardian's piercing stare that seemed to impale the Legatee-Baron. Arthur watched   
as the young boy seemed to collapse upon himself. As if the clarity of what he had done had suddenly crippled him with the freight of a terrible guilt.   
He ran, on spindly legs, not for the cobblestone streets of Fallon, but in the other direction. Liam's scarecrow form dashed for the sterile alluvials of   
the High Desert until he was nothing more than a shadow lost amoung the dunes. Arthur ignored him as he went about his work. 

He had no time for cowards.   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  


"Damn... don't hear him anymore," said Tommy pressing his ear against the cold, Cirrillian steel door. 

"Couldn't have gotten far," said Doak as he finished cleaning his hand-cannon by lamp light. "I can still shoot 'em from here." 

The tall thug slapped the barrel in place, rose from his chair at the factory's foyer desk, and stepped over the dead body of the sixteen   
year old receptionist. 

The two Klansmen had been guarding the entrance to the Nano factory for the past two hours. Boredom had set in ten minutes after   
they had killed the factorys entire office staff. Then Liam arrived with Kelly's drugged body. They had allowed the boy to stay until the   
nuke detonated, then summarily kicked him out. Somehow he had found the courage to come back and demand his payment for the job. 

"Easy Doak... remember the boss wants the doors kept..." 

Something hard and metallic connected itself to the door outside. Both men tensed and turned to look at each other with bewildering looks.   
Doak pulled back the hammer of his gun, and Tommy found the frame of mind to pull his ... 

The front door exploded, knocking both men clear across the room along with the lobby's ten foot steel door, and one meter of wall on either   
side of the entrance. 

Smoke and dust choked the tiny chamber as Daok and Tommy regained their senses. Countless nicks and cuts covered their bodies, stinging   
them as they struggled to their feet. That's when they noticed the man standing before them. A man whose face was far from pleasant. 

"Old coot!..." slurred Doak as he wiped his bleeding lips. "You got a life time of misery coming your..." 

The stiletto dart was stuck in the Klansman's chest. Doak looked at it, confused both by the blinding movement of Arthur's wrist and the   
growing circle of numbness emanating from the wound. In the corner of his eye he saw a similar dart in Tommy's thigh. Both men tried to   
move, but the darts fast acting narcotic had paralyzed them both. For the first time in their outlawed lives Doak and Tommy realized they   
were now in serious, serious trouble. 

Arthur looked down at the body of Sally Gains, then swung back a harden look that branded both men. Sally had been Sheriff Gains's   
youngest niece. A nice girl who Justin had a fierce crush on. The 'Sin-Guardian stepped closer, close enough to see the cheese colored   
symptoms of Doak's Sun-eye and the miasma of heliograph burns floating in them. Close enough to smell the outlaws haggard, labored breath. 

"Inbred maggots like you are only born by something that eats on all fours." 

His voice pronounced over them like an angel of death. He stepped closer. 

"Disease like you don't even belong in this world, especially when you have the audacity to murder innocent children..." 

Closer still, and both men could feel their bowels tighten. It was the only movement they could muster. 

"... and to touch my Granddaughter." 

Arthur lifted his cane before them and silently pulled the long, Cirrillian steel Razor-epee hidden in its shaft. It glinted in the lamp light like a surgical scaple 

"For that alone... I'm gonna make you both wish... you were never born."   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  
  


Kelly's eyes slowly opened like the petals of a desert flower, drinking in the room's waning light. Somewhere in a dream she had heard thunder.   
Her stomach felt nauseous, and her mouth was dry like it had been stuffed with cotton. She sat up a little, resting her weight on one hand as she rubbed   
her eyes with her other. 

She had rounded a corner in the path on her way home from school when she saw Liam Wimpole standing there... as if waiting for her. That was   
all she could remember. Now she seemed to be in a spacious chamber, one lit only by the purple and blue colors of the setting sun shafted through tall,   
arrow slit windows. 

*The Nano-mill...* she thought. 

She had been to the plant once on a school trip a few years back. It was a modern facility, alive with men, and labor droids, but it smelled of ozone   
and sulfur. She didn't care for it. 

All around her it was silent, save for its telling odor. She looked around. She was on a steel crate, no more then a meter off the ground. All around   
her were similar crates forming rows, like hedges, while others were stacked so high they were lost in the rooms high ceiling darkness. 

She was in the mill's warehouse. 

She sensed another light source behind her, but before she could turn to investigate her eyes were attracted to a mass of deformed shapes scattered   
on the floor. The ten year old's muscles grew taunt. 

They were bodies. 

An icy hand clamped itself over her mouth as a muffled voice found her ear. 

"Move and I will slit your throat like a fatten calf," it said. 

Kelly obeyed. She couldn't tell who the person was behind her, but she could feel the rough fabric of coarse cotton brushing against her ear and the   
base of her neck. The person behind her was wearing a hood. Her heart began beating so loud she almost missed the distant sounds of men screaming.   
The hand at her mouth lightened its grip and the owner's voice found her ear once more. 

"Your Grandfather is looking for you. I will remove my hand and you will call for him." 

The hand did as promised and Kelly screamed, nearly for a full minute until her voice became horse. Another hand, this one as cold as a gravediggers,   
circle her waist, lifted her off the crate and onto the warehouse floor. Almost on instinct she stopped screaming. The man (as she guessed him now to be,   
and certainly not Liam) spoke once more without trace of an accent, or cultured inflection, but with machine like punctuation. 

"Remain still. Remain silent and I won't hurt you." 

Kelly obeyed again, somehow thinking that the word 'hurt' was just a substitution for the word 'kill'. She looked forward and realized the man had   
pointed her in the direction of the warehouse entrance. Somewhere in the distance she heard a familiar sound - the click step echo of her Grandfather's   
cane walk. Louder it grew until the warehouse's ten meter doors slide aside on their rails, revealing deep darkness beyond. 

Click-step 

A smudging octave of shade faded down to black at her Grandfather's feet as he stepped into the room. His face and clothes were flecked with blood,   
fresh blood, but it was the look on his face that terrorized Kelly even more. She had never seen such human fury, and never on her Grandfather's face. 

Arthur's eyes bored into the man behind her. 

"You and I have some words to chew over," said the 'Sin-Guardian. "Then I'm gonna kill ya."   
  
  
  


** __________________________6**_____________________________   
  


** First to Draw, Last to Let Fly**   
  
  
  


The room was nearly dark. 

The lonely light of a glow-lamp burned somewhere in the rear of the chamber. A dim aura that mixed with the strained shades of purple   
shafting through the room's arrow slit windows as perhaps the last dozen minutes of the day. 

The figure behind Kelly seemed to be wearing a cloak of darkness, one darker than the crude hood he wore to hide his face. Despite his   
obscure form Arthur knew he was the same man he saw in the Séance. The same man who Doak and Tommy (when they were alive) had   
called 'boss', and the same man who flipped Arthur the Archaen obscene gesture of 'Get bent'. 

Only this time the man wasn't wearing the vestments of a Red Klan member, or smoked glasses and a fielder's cap. The man before him   
wore the black and silver robes of a Kelshran Assassin, the elite warlords of the K'tan Empire. 

The Kelshran reached into the folds of his robe and took out a holstered weapon. An Imperial Torpedo blaster. He tossed it to Arthur's feet. 

"The time for talk is over," he said. "Pick it up." 

Arthur feigned a casual pose. "I think not." 

"I am calling you out, 'Sin-Guardian! I will shoot you where you stand, even if you object to breaking your Duke's oath!" 

Arthur said nothing, but simply stared. Kelly could feel the man behind her grow taunt. The air thicken with an almost palpable tension,   
as if she were standing between two resonating power nodes. Her scalp began to tingle. 

"Pick it up! I will not ask again!" spat the assassin, but the 'Sin-Guardian was unmoved. 

"Let's cut the dramatics, shall we," said Arthur. "What is it that you really want... Shaw?" 

Kelly flinched at the word, not because she knew it, or the man behind her, but because her Grandfather did. The man named Shaw lightly   
chuckled to himself, then reached up and removed his black hood. Kelly chanced a look behind her. The man holding her prisoner had a handsome,   
chiseled cut face with dark black hair, and soulless black eyes. Their eyes met and his grin seemed to fall down upon her like flour from a sifter.   
Kelly shivered. Shaw passed his attention back to Arthur. 

"Well done, Honor-Tyson. It seems the years haven't dulled your acuity. Tell me... are you surprised to see me?" 

Arthur's face remained unchanged. 

"Do I look surprised? You're not the first man to fake his own death, Shaw. The Order always suspected that you did,   
just not to what end. So again, I asked you... what do you want?" 

"Your head," answered the assassin. 

The 'Sin-Guardian rose onto the balls of his feet, but the Kelshran waved a hand through the air in a way Arthur found beseeching. 

"Oh, this may have all the trappings of a vendetta, but your death is just a simple prelude to something much bigger." 

Arthur cocked his head. "Care to school me?" 

The Kelshran leveled his stare, and smiled. 

"The K'tan invasion of the entire Tri-sector area." 

Arthur blinked once, then twice. "You've lost me," he said and his former student's smile widened. 

"Tell me... who will your Emperor send to investigate this nuclear detonation?" 

Arthur knew the answer almost immediately, though the truth was too incredulous. 

"You did all this... just to draw out Coleman Waryip?!" 

Shaw's grin stretched more with the curved sharpness of a sickle. 

"I'll arrange to meet him at a time and place of my choosing, then throw your head at his feet... as greetings." 

Arthur studied his former pupil, wondering if the man was truly in command of all his faculties. Finally, he said, 

"Morbid. For an assassin you have all the subtlety of a dull ax. I thought I taught you better." 

The Kelshran's grinned vanished into a straight cut, creasing the flesh of his face. 

"You taught me how to kill, Honor-Tyson which is what I shall do!" 

"To what end?" asked the his former teacher. 

"To the fulfillment of the plan. Even as we speak the Kelshran Cadre is flooding the Tri-sector area bent on killing   
the elite champions of every Minor Empire. Andorian Sages, Selesthian Aritea warriors, Dr'owe Xin'Arachnia,   
Royal Dra'keshi warriors, Traqian Telepaths, Asgardain Valkyrie, and more. By the end of the week the best of   
their best shall be dead... then the Minors shall fall." 

Arthur nodded his head in a causal manner, and arched his eyebrows. 

"So, the K'tan's opening volley will be a pogrom of assassination and psychological warfare. Gosh... I never saw that   
coming.You'll have to forgive me if I don't wet myself." 

The older assassin turned towards his Granddaughter. 

"Kelly, has this coward hurt you?" 

Shaw's eyes flared, and quicker then even Arthur would have expected, he yanked Kelly to his side and flashed a knife to her throat. It was the   
same knife Arthur had seen in the Séance, the same knife that had maimed his leg. His own Combat dagger. 

"You'll watch your words, Arthur Tyson! I fear no man!" 

Arthur simple lifted his gaze from his Granddaughter to Shaw with an expression that was somehow neutral and serious. 

"I see. My mistake. I beg your pardon." 

The older assassin crossed his arms to his chest and courtly bowed. The Kelshran accepted his apology with his own courtesy nod and slowly   
lowered his blade. Arthur watched as the tension in Kelly's shoulder's lightened. 

"Your Granddaughter has been unharmed. On that you have my word," said the assassin. 

"Such as it is," answered Arthur, then added, "So... you wanna run that by me again about how this 'isn't' about revenge?" 

Shaw smiled again, something Arthur was beginning to find wholly unpleasant to look at. 

"I will admit... your death will be something of a... personal indulgence, but then again, you and I have unfinished business." 

Arthur grinned, knowing what he meant. 

"Like why I picked Coleman as my protégé... over you?" 

Shaw increased his smirk. "Ironic, isn't it? A decision you shall now regret." 

To the Kleshan's surpise there was neither shame, nor remorse on Arthur's face, only a stern, harden stare. 

"Why should I? Do you think there was some flaw in my logic? That you were judged unfairly?" 

The 'Sin-Guardian let the challenging question hang in the air for his former pupil, but the Kelshran said nothing. Finally, Arthur shook his   
head with the expression of honest disappointment. 

"Ishtar... Shaw, the fact of the matter is you were one of my greatest students. A devastating fencer, an expert   
marksman, a cunning tactician and strategist. Coleman was the only one who could hold his own against you,   
but he's not the reason why you weren't picked as my protégé... or subsequently kicked out of the Order." 

Arthur took another step closer. 

"The fact is... you were just to damn brutal." 

The Kelshran's face stiffened at the word. 

"That... makes no sense at all. I was in training to be an assassin!" 

Arthur shook his head. 

"You were in training to be an Assassin-Guardian. Even now you forget that." 

"I FORGET NOTHING!" spat the Kelshran. Arthur watched as his knife wavered under Kelly's chin. 

"Truth!" oathed the 'Sin-Guardian. "Coleman Waryip was chosen because he was the better man." 

"LIAR! I was his better! His better in everything!" 

Spittle flew from Shaw's lips as his knife puckered into Kelly's skin. 

"Except... " said Arthur. "At being humane." 

The older man directed his gaze to the blade at his Granddaughter's throat. 

"To wit," he added. 

Shaw looked at his hand as if it had a life of its own, then lowered the blade. With a sour glare he rose his expression to Arthur . 

"You... complicitious bastard! You sent my life through hell all because of some sentimental weakness?!" 

Shaw shook his head and rose a single, harden fist. His black eyes leveled at his former teacher like the barrels of a gun. 

"The Kelshran were right about you. You and your precious Order. How many years have you cut away   
your best people in favor of those who promote your own flawed values. How many?!" 

Arthur said nothing and Shaw's leering grin grew. 

"In a way, old man, kicking me out of the Order was the best thing to ever happen to me. My fighting skills   
flourished in the K'tan gladiatorial pits, and more so in the Kelshran Cadre. I became a far better warrior than   
any of your so called... Assassin-Guardians," he sneered 

"Bull, and shit," replied Arthur. "All you've done is to squander your life learning to fight dirty, and think big." 

The 'Sin-Guardian took another single step forward towards the Kelshran. 

"Your mind's gone dull, Shaw. You rely too much on back stabbing, shadow slinking and technology. The problem   
with you... you and the K'tan, is that you never learned to fight smart. That's the arena you're in now, kid and quite   
frankly... you're outclassed." 

The younger assassin's lecherous grin wrinkled his handsome face. 

"Really?" he said gesturing with an outstretched hand, overacting a look of wonder. "Then where are all your so called friends?   
Your town?" 

He turned back to his old teacher, and raised a single eyebrow. 

"You're alone, Arthur Tyson, with no one to watch your back." 

Arthur rested both his hands on his cane again, and smiled with confidence. 

"Oh, the Fellas are alive if that's what you're gettin' at." 

Shaw mirrored Arthur's expression and almost laughed. 

"I doubt that very much," he answered. 

"If you think that trick with the nuke got them, then you're dumber than you look." 

The Kelshran's eyes stopped cold, and looked carefully at his former teacher. Arthur flashed his all knowing smile. 

"You weave a pretty good scheme, Shaw, I'll grant you that. That play with Tommy and Doak in town, having   
them leave their irons for us to divine, then setting us up to go after the Klan... fairly brilliant. Except, you got   
sloppy. Tell me... how long has Liam been spying for you?" 

The Kelshran's expression was still curious. 

"Long enough, and willingly after a few false promises of payment," he answered. 

"Yeah? Well he's a gullible simp, that much I can say." 

"Oh, he's much smarter than you think. Liam told me the exact moment your Fellas left to pursue my men.   
Even more, he provided me with the choicest of intelligence on Dr. Runewood's magical ability." 

"Hence, my psycho-wound," said Arthur nodding. Shaw smiled again, and Arthur had to suppress the urge to smash him with his fist. 

"I couldn't risk having you killed in a nuclear blast, now could I, and miss our reunion?" 

"I'm touched. Regardless, your scheme's failed, Shaw. The Fellas are coming." 

"I fail to see how. My men contacted me the moment they saw your pursuing friends. They were no more   
than half a kilometer away when I remote detonated the nuke." 

Again Shaw was surprised by Arthur's reaction. The older assassin grinned like a fox. 

"Sure it was them?" he asked. 

Shaw's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Arthur continued. 

"The desert can play tricks on the eyes, and do funny things to the mind." 

Shaw tensed, and Arthur watched as he consumed his words. 

"What I'm saying is... it could have been a mirage." 

For a brief flaring moment the Kelshran looked away, as if checking an invisible check list, then, 

"No," he answered. "No, the men in the Vicky were all natives of this world. They'd know the difference," he offered defensively, but Arthur   
just shrugged. 

"Maybe... but only if the mirage were natural. You forget, Jord was with them, and Jord's the only man in this   
Q-dex who can use... magic." 

Arthur watched the Kelshran shoulders and necked tighten, His knife hand nearly lowered to his side as confusion pecked away at his supreme   
confidence. Arthur tried not to smile. Tried. 

"NO! Impossible! How... why would he... unless?..." 

His eyes grew wide with the specter of fear. Arthur nodded knowing what Shaw had just figured out. 

"Unless we knew exactly 'who' we were up against. Like I said Shaw... you got sloppy." 

With a cool smile Arthur reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a small object, and held it up. The Kelshran Assassin looked at it as if the   
magnetic poles of his mind had shifted. It was a hand-rolled cigarette butt. The one Doak had thrown into the gutter after getting out of the Vicky. 

It was the third item the Fellas had divined.   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  


It had only been a few minutes after Liam had ran out of the chateau (skin the color of clean, white sheets and scared ten years older). Elwood   
had managed to stop the bleeding on Arthur's leg, while Jord, and Mara were at his side. 

"Arthur... I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened. I..." began the Archeologist. The retired assassin held up his hand, clearly in pain, but wishing   
to speak. 

"It's... all right... I think I know... what happened. Mara, El... help me up." 

They did, and the rest of the Fellas sat back down at the round table. 

"The blade we saw in the Séance, the one that killed the Marine... was my blade, and the same blade that originally did this." 

Arthur laid his hand upon his bloodstained bandaged limb. Jord nodded. 

"Then this is a psychosomatic wound," said the Elf. 

"Yes," replied Arthur. 

"Any idea how the hooded man may have gotten your blade?" asked Tyler. 

Arthur looked at the table, thought for a while, then shook his head. 

"No, but I have a feeling that if we divine our last clue, we may find out." 

He was looking at Doak's cigarette butt on the burlap wrappings. 

"No! It's not be safe, it could..." stammered Mara., but Arthur cut her off. 

"I'm willing to take that risk," he said with a strained voice. "The blade could be a freak coincidence, but if someone's trying to   
hurt me... hurt the ones I love, then I owe it to them... to myself to find out." 

Mara started to speak, but she recognized the look on her lover's face. The subject wasn't up for debate. 

"Then... then how can I help?" she asked. 

"I think we all could use another round of brandywine" said Arthur with a fragile grin. 

"That's not what I meant!" said the attarctive tavernkeeper, but then she read deeper into the expression on Arthur and all of the Fellas's faces. 

"Oh... all right then, You want to be alone for yor Spirit-rappin' is that it?" 

Arthu nodded, and Mara stood. 

"Just... be carefull, that's all I'm asking." 

"You have our word," said Jord. 

Mara looked at Arthur as if it were the last time she would see him, then turned, made her way through the kitchen's bat-wing doors and   
slammed the second one shut behind her. 

The Fellas joined hands again.   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  


"Doak must have been rolling his cigarette when you were going over your plans with him and Tommy.   
We learned everything. How you used Liam as an informant, the Quantum Nuke, and your plan to sacrifice   
the other Klansmen once the Fellas got close enough to their racing Vicky. But most of all we saw it was you,   
Shaw, and knew it was a trap from the start." 

The Kelshran looked at him complettely speechless. 

"What we didn't know was what you were truly planning. The Fellas were gonna do their part to try and stop   
the Vicky without detonating the nuke, but mainly to try and chase it far enough from Fallon so it wouldn't do   
any real damage. We couldn't risk evacing the town without tipping you off, or even go to Sheriff Gains. The   
only thing we knew was that you wanted me left here in town." 

Arthur looked around notiicng the bodies of the other dead factory workers as submerged shapes in the rooms darkness. He turned back   
to Shaw. 

"To be honest, the nuke was our biggest concern, so we decided to foil that, let your plan play out and do what   
any good 'Sin-Guardian does best... improvise." 

Now it was Arthur's turn to smirk and he watched how it goaded into the younger assassin. 

"Congratulations, Shaw. You're probably the first man in history to ever miss seven people with a nuclear bomb." 

The 'Sin-Guradian took another final step forward. 

"Now this is the part were you and I are done chewin' words. This is the part where I kill you! I'm asking you once   
more... let my Granddaughter go." 

Shaw snapped a look at Arthur, like a man lost in thought who suddenly heard his name called. His eyes narrowed, eyes as flat and black   
as nailheads. 

"No," he said. "I... underestimated you and your friends, but that doesn't change anything. Coleman Waryip will   
still come... and I still intend to take your head." 

"I don't give a rat's ass about what you intend to do. Justice ain't waitin' anymore!" 

"Justice?" said Shaw as if he had never hear the word. 

"Frontier justice. You killed about a dozen people here today. Town folks and friends I've know for years. You called   
me out, you arrogant bastard, so let's get on with it. LET MY GRANDDAUGHTER GO!" 

Shaw flinched as if he had been visibly slapped. Slowly his heated face looked down at Kelly as if he suddenly noticed that she was there. 

"Go," he ordered, and lowered his blade. 

Kelly stepped away from him and ran to her Grandfather's side. Arthur lowered to one knee and hugged her fiercely. 

"I knew you'd come!" she said buring her face into the side of his neck. 

"Aye," said Arthur. The two held on to each other for a long time. Separting, Arthur held her at arms length. 

"I want you to run, Kelly. Run for the Club. The Fellas will be there. Tell them what's happened." 

"Grandpa?" 

"Some rivers can't be crossed Kelly, but we have to try anyway, that's what it means to be brave." 

He passed over his cane. 

"Take this for protection. You'll know what to do with it." 

She looked at his disguised weapon, then back up to him and nodded. Turning she ran out of the room as fast as her ten year old legs   
could take her. Arthur stood up and faced Shaw once more. 

"You know I'll have to kill her," said the Kelshan. 

"We'll see," said Arhtur. 

"Are you going to pick up that gun behind you, or make this easy for me," asked his former student. 

"I prefer the weapon you're holding," said Arthur looking at the blade in the assassin's hand. Shaw smiled. 

"Interesting..." 

Unfastening his robe the Kelshran assassin let it drop to the floor, revealing a holstered hand-cannon on his right thigh. Raising his forearm   
he tossed the blade directly at his old teacher. Arthur caught it without looking, and sheathed it against his belt on his left side. 

Arthur then fell into a classic En Garde stance - right foot extended, knee slightly bent, left leg spaced behind it, with the foot turned ninety   
degrees. His right arm was out, slightly curved in front of him, whle his left arm floated behind him in a classic gunslinger pose. 

Shaw nodded at the 'Sin-Guardian's strategy. 

"You realize you have absolutely no hope of beating me, old man.   
Only the honor of trying." 

"Because you're thrity years younger, and thirty years faster?" asked Arthur again with   
another sly grinned. 

"Maybe. But there's an old saying, Shaw. Something you didn't learn when you were in the Order.   
First to draw, last to let fly." 

"What?" 

"Draw, shithead."   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  
  


Kelly stood hidden in the dark recesses of the warhouse entrance trying to contain her rapid breathing, and the frantic beating of her heart.   
She had ran as far as she dared hope, until she guessed the receeding sounds of her footsteps would have sounded lost in the distance to the men   
back in the warehouse. She then stopped and crept back as quitely as she could. 

In the tender moment of her Grandfather's hug he had whispered a single sentence to her. 

"... Watch my back, and wait for my signal." 

Kelly now knew that his other words, the ones about her being brave were intend for the man named Shaw to hear, but the passing of his cane   
and his last sentence ... 

"...You'll now what to do with it ..." 

... had another secret meaning. Attached to the shaft of the cane, hidden from Shaw's view by a thin film of adhesive tape was Arthur's third   
and final stilleto dart. Kelly felt it when it was passed over. Unable to touch firearms, Arthur had taught all of his Grandchildren the finer art of   
primitive projectile weapons. The bow and arrow, the sling... and the blowdart. 

Kelly had removed Arthur's Razor-epee from his cane and unscrewed its steel tip, reducing it into the a long, hollow shaft. She then loaded   
the thin stilleto dart into it and waited for her Grandfather's signal, hopeing that she wasn't too late.   
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  


"Your Blaster against my blade," said Arthur. "Beat me and you live," 

Shaw narrowed his eyes. His showdown with his former teacher had been more than he bargined for. The back of his neck flushed with   
anger. He had been embarrased where he had hoped to find victory, but more, his former teacher was far from the broken and beaten man   
he had hoped to encounter. Even now, hopelessly outmatched he exuded confidence. 

Something wasn't right. 

The 'Sin-Guardian's stance was admirable, it not tactically interesting. Both his arms were equally positioned to draw his blade. It was an old trick.   
The 'Sin-Guardian was hopeing he would watch one arm, while his other drew the blade. Shaw wasn't impressed. He knew he could still beat him.   
Slowly, Arthur's left hand, the one hanging behind him in a gunslinger's pose, curled into a fist. The Kelshan readied himself, the real attack would   
come from his ... 

Suddenly, his eys shifted back to Arthur's left hand again. That same feeling that something wasn't right screamed in the back of his mind.   
Everything the 'Sin-Guardian was doing was text book, but void of his former teacher's sly tricks or graft. If the 'Sin-Guarian's left fist wasn't   
a feint, then what was... 

Shaw's eyes darted to the warehouse door just as Kelly raised the end of Arthur's blowdart-cane. His eyes flashed to Arthur, then back to Kelly. 

Shaw drew. 

Arthur drew, and Kelly fired striking the Kelshran just above his left nipple as he snapped off a shot. The slight sting of pain was enough to throw   
his aim off. The right pig-tail on Kelly's head was sheared off. Shaw's bullet just missed her skull. 

Kelly blinked. She had never seen anyone move so fast. More so she had't even seen her Grandfather move. The knife was gone from his belt.   
It was inbedded deep in the assassin's throat. The Kelshran clawed at the blade with his free hand as he gurgled up blood. He fell to one knee   
struggling to breath. 

"GRANDPA!" 

Kelly ran into the room, and Arthur whirled, throwing himslef in front of her. 

"KELLY... NO!" 

Too late. 

Shaw raised a trembling hand, despite the narcotic in his system, he aimed and fired. Kelly watched in horror as her Grandfather's entire body   
flinched. A hole ruptured out his backside the size and color of a rose blossom. A curtain of blood began to fall down his back. Arthur fell   
to his knees, and with a deep exhausted sigh, fell flat on his face.   
  
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  
  


Kelly ran to her Grandfather's side as she heard Shaw gurgle his last labored breath.With trembling hands she touched her Grandfather's shoulders.   
The 'Sin-Guardian's arms kicked out, bending at the elbows with his hands flat against the floor. Slowly, with all his remaining strength, Arthur Tyson   
rose himself from the ground. 

Kelly saw the gunshot wound in his chest. It was near his heart. She want to think it was just above his heart, but it was just too close to tell. His eyes   
fell on her with his kind and noble smile. 

"Granspa..." she whispered. "I'm sorry... I .." 

Arthur just smiled and shook his head. "You did good, Kel. You did real good." 

His arms reached out and the two hugged for what seemed like forever. 

"Help me... Kel," said Arthur after a while. His voice was just above a whisper. 

Somehow she manged to help him to his feet, and together they looked over at Shaw's body as Arthur leaned on Kelly for support. . 

"What should we do about him?" asked his Granddaughter. 

Shaw's vacant eyes were rolled up in th top of his head as if he were staring up into chamber's inky darkness. Arthur held his lips together and   
closed his eyes.   


"Leave him," he said. "Flies buzzing over a head of lettuce have more worth than him."   
  
  


_______________________________________________________________   
  
  
  


The two made it as far as the first bend in the road half outside the nano mill. Kelly could feel her Grandfather's body grow colder with   
each passing step, and more so, the slosh of his own blood in his boots. 

"Put me down here, Kel," said Arthur, gesturing to a small boulder along the side of the road. The older man sat down with the help of   
his Granddaughter. Arthur looked long and hard to the silhouette of Fallon in the distance. 

"...Too far," he said weakly. "You have... to go yourself, Kelly... and get help." 

"No. I won't leave you!" stated his Granddaugher, and Arthur suddenly looked at her because her tone and voice was so much like her   
mother's. Arthur looked up at the darken sky. His thoughts seemed to be deep and far away. 

"Some rivers can't be crossed..." he began, and fell into a coughing fit. 

"... But we have to try anyway," added Kelly. Arthur grinned and wiped the blood form his mouth. 

"That's what it means to be brave," he finished. 

"You're gonig to die... aren't you?" asked his Granddaughter, and her voice seemed to be the loudest sound in the chilling desert air. 

Arthur looked up into the near dark sky again. Over head several points of light had swung into what looked like a planetary alignment. 

"See that Kelly," he pointed. "That's a good Omen. If I die, then it was for a   
good reason. Ishtar's will. Now go, child." 

Kelly looked at the sky for a long time, then lowered her head to her Grandfather looking at the stars. She hugged him once more,   
and kissed him on the cheek. 

"I Love you..." she whispered. 

"Love you, too," said Arthur. 

Kelly turned and ran down the road. Ran as hard as the tears running down her face. She made only a hundred yards before she stopped   
and turned around. The buring color of dusk married to the desert floor was all she could see, that and her Grandfather's silhouette sitting   
on the rock. 

In the wanning darkness, Arthur Tyson lowered his head in time with the setting sun.   
  
  
  


_______________________________________________________________ 


	13. Afterwords

ditlafterwords.htm **Afterwords**   


**The Day Makers**

**STELLAR STARELVEN** - Half Native American Cherokee and half Norse Viking by blood. Druidic   
Witch and companion of Goddess Luminae by faith. Pure Elven Guardian at heart. The passion for writing   
and imagination has ever been present in my life. Working in data processing currently until a full career in   
writing becomes feasable, I fill the greater part of my free time with writing in many various forums of the   
online universe. With plans for publishing the first part of a Fantasy trilogy sometime in the hopefully near   
future, along with a seperate Fantasy/Romance Series nearing completion, there is no telling where the path   
shall end ...however it is certain to be an interesting view along the way. 

**RICHARD McKINLEY** - I was born in Kenton, Ohio, but have lived in Kentucky, Indiana, Ohio, Georgia,   
Texas, and Colorado. However, most of my life, I have lived in Lima, Ohio. The lure of family keeps bringing   
me back. I am a Customer Service Associate for a prominent convenience store chain, and have been writing   
for nearly twenty-five years. However, I had never been able to break through into the market, except for a   
couple of poems in an anthology, until the Internet became a serious phenomenon. Now, I am able to reach   
readers, and am having a great time doing so. 

**ANDORIA SUNOK** - A registered medical assistant and aspiring writer who has always been interested in   
the hidden worlds of the mind and its imagination. With all my Celtic background, I somehow feel related to   
the elven characters I create and the magical world in which they live. I am fond of Runes as a language,   
especially when used in writing poetry. I am hoping to someday finish and publish a book, in cooperation   
with several writers, based on the Starshield Universe. 

**LEV CHTERENBERG** - I was born in a small town Chernovzi in Western Ukraine. I came to US when I   
was 11 years old lived here ever since. I always tried to write sci-fi stories but never finished any of them until   
I joined Starshield LS. Right now I am in 3rd year in Med School and working on four different stories. 

**ANATOL RATHBAUER** - I'm a pure-breed Austrian, but was born in Munich, Germany. When I was six   
years old, my family moved back to Vienna and that's where I've been living until today. I'm still a student who   
will graduate this year (Class of 2001 - cool!) and head for uni to become a lawyer. In my opinion living in a   
city like Vienna, where a certain morbid flair, left-over imperial splendor and constant personal backstabbing   
dominate, makes a good basis for an aspiring writer. Then again, I wouldn't want to damage tourism to Vienna   
by saying that I'm a typical example of its inhabitants. 

**MARK PROCTOR** - I was born and live in Nova Scotia and have done only a small amount of travelling.   
I have recently completed university and am now looking for work. I have always been interested in writing,   
especially in a cooperative environment like Starshield. This is my first full story, both for Starshield and in   
general. 

**JEREMY HUSSELL** - Jeremy Hussell - A Canadian student who just recieved his BSc in Computer Science.   
Interesting facts: both his parents are ornithologists, and he holds a triple citizenship (Canada, U.S., England). 

**CHRIS CORLISS** - I currently live in Denver, Colorado and work full time as a software engineer and go   
to school full time. My first love was back in third grade when I started to read "choose your own adventure"   
books. Ever since that time I have not only loved to read science fiction and fantasy but also loved writing   
stories with elements of the fantastic in them. 

**FRANK VITTOE** - I run and write The Spider Queen Theocracy on the Starshield Listserve. I am currently   
studying to be an Emergency Medical Technician. My hobbies are playing Dungeons and Dragons and other   
RPG's. I also enjoy music a great deal, and play guitar, electric bass and cello. 

**ESTEBAN JAUREGUI LORDA** - Ever since I could tell an A from a B, I enjoyed reading. It soon became   
clear to me writing was the only way to express myself not only with elegance but with honesty, allowing words   
and phrases to simply flow from my mind to my hand. I'm 19 and studying to became, hopefully, an engineer   
in 3 or 4 more years. I was born in Santa Rosa, but am currently living in La Plata, close to Buenos Aires...   
that's Argentina, way down America. 

**LOWELL BOSTON** - I was born in upstate New York and grew up in various places throughout the   
continental United States. I think my nomadic childhood contributed to my wandering imagination and the   
urgent need to see what's over the next hill. Professionally, I'm an Adjunct Assistant Professor for the University   
of the Arts and part time instructor for Art Institute of Philadelphia. I began drawing when I was old enough to   
hold a pencil. I began writing shortly after that. 


End file.
